


If the Gods and the Stars Align

by nawsies



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura and Lance are Siblings, Altean Hunk (Voltron), Altean Lance (Voltron), Alternate Universe - Royalty, Established Keith/Shiro, Galra Keith (Voltron), Getting Together, Human Shiro (Voltron), M/M, Misunderstandings, Multi, Mutual Pining, Shklance Big Bang 2018, a series of unfortunate eavesdropping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 02:51:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13824927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nawsies/pseuds/nawsies
Summary: Empress Thisbe Kogane of the Galra Empire has decided it’s high time that her son, Keith, found love and happiness. To speed things along, she sent out invites to suitable bachelors across the galaxy for a week-long ball to be hosted on Daibazaal. Small hitch – Keith is already engaged, to the Earthen ambassador Takashi Shirogane.Keith figures he’ll get through the ball, announce his engagement to Shiro, avoid offending any guests and all will be well.Keith didn’t anticipate Prince Lance of Altea - charismatic, charming, and far too easy to love – coming through the palace doors and sweeping him and Shiro off their feet.





	If the Gods and the Stars Align

**Author's Note:**

> I want to give the biggest thanks I can to [Julia](http://ofdiamantes.tumblr.com/) for creating amazing art to go with this fic! It's been an absolute delight working with her and I cannot thank her enough for her hard work because I just, love her art so much, so so much, it's perfection. 
> 
> Also a huge thank you to everyone who made the Shklance Big Bang happen! 
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it!

Keith missed Daibazal.

He loved his ship. He loved flying and seeing new worlds, but he missed the smell of home; the jagged mountains and the purple lakes he swam in during the long dry seasons. He loved training with the Blade, but he missed the courtyard at the palace; full of young cubs honing new skills, Commanders who haven’t seen a battlefield in decades sharing their knowledge freely and the feeling of comradery and possibility that thrummed in every parry, feint and counter. He could love seeing the cultures he’d read about in endless history lessons, but he could still miss the comfort of familiar gestures and the festivals celebrating the second sun. He could love the stars but he could miss his own room, oh gods he could miss his own _bed_.

His ship was a second home to him. But that was just it, it would always come second. At least Keith was good at dividing his heart.

So, when Empress Thisbe of Daibazal and the Galran Empire, Sergeant Major of the Seven Armies, The Everlasting, Champion of the Blade and the Protector of the Hiareth Galaxy; Keith’s mother, called him home, Keith was ecstatic. He spent his days regaling Shiro, the human ambassador for Earth who longed for adventure even more than Keith himself, with stories of his childhood and mapped the Palace with his stories in such detail that Shiro swore he would never get lost in its tangled labyrinth.

Keith had been away from home for far too long. He was ready to see home again.

The reunion was not what Keith expected.

“A ball?” Keith asked again, ears flat against his head as he gestured up and down his body, staring at his mother like she’d gone mad. “You called me back here because you want to throw _me_ a _ball_?”

“An engagement ball, that is correct.” Empress Thisbe peered over the letter she was reading and frowned. “Don’t look at me like that son.”

“A _ball_?!” To his chagrin, Keith’s voice pitched higher. But, this was ridiculous. She couldn’t be serious. He had to make her see sense. “How can you think a ball would be anything less than a disaster with _me_ at the centre of it?”

“I have invited guests with your preferences in mind,” Thisbe tilted her head, ears perked up in curiosity. “Many great Galran Emperors have taken male mates, there is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“It’s not that!” Keith shuddered. The last thing he wanted to talk about with his mum was his ‘preferences’. “It’s just, I’m not exactly…” Keith fumbled for the right word, arms flying through the air as though he could catch it out the air. “Charming?”

Thisbe tutted as she rose from her chair and walked round her desk towards him. She ran her hands over his ears and pressed a kiss to his forehead. He appreciated the gesture, though it did nothing to soothe his nerves. “My darling little prince, you sell yourself short. You are a fierce warrior, unwaveringly loyal and you have an Empire to lay at their feet. It is hardly as though you are a repulsive prospect.”

“I don’t want someone to love me for my Empire.” Keith tried for another route out of this catastrophe waiting to happen. Thisbe was a romantic through and through. He’d been lulled to sleep countless times on stories of his parents great and wonderful love, she wouldn’t force him into unhappiness.

“I met your father at a ball just like this one Keith, and he loved me for my soul. This is not a blind match. The choice is entirely yours. If you do not find love then it was a failure and we move on, but if you do,” Thisbe’s warm golden eyes swam with unshed tears, “I want to see you happy my son. I know your heart wanders the stars, but I want to see you settle, if only a little. I want to see you enjoy this time of peace. I could not forgive myself if I did not give you this chance. Please take it.”

Keith sighed heavily. Disaster it may be, but he couldn’t deny his mother anything, not even this. “I guess it wouldn’t kill me.”

“That’s the spirit,” Thisbe chucked him under the chin and went back to her seat. She lifted her papers and tapped them against the desk twice, passing them to a silent guard at her side and folding her hands before her. “It’s a good thing you agreed, cancelling the invitations would’ve been a political nightmare. You know how it is. Princes, they’re so easy to offend.”

“This ball is going to be an embarrassing nightmare,” Keith recognised his dismissal and left the room in a huff.  He walked slowly down the hall trying to gather his scattered thoughts. A week-long ball, with royal guests from across the galaxy, in his honour, vying for his hand all so that he could find a life-long partner. That was, a lot to take in.

He reached the end of the hall and was pleasantly surprised by warm arms round his waist pulling him back into a shadowy alcove.

“Good morning my Prince,” Shiro’s voice gusted passed his ear. “Is your mother well?”

“She’s fine.” Keith said tensely. Some of his tension slipped away as Shiro pulled him closer. He had that effect on the countless people he cared for, he made them feel at ease. “She has crazy ideas though.”

Shiro chuckled. “What is your illustrious Empress doing now?”

Keith reached down to play with the ring on Shiro’s finger. His own sigil stared back at him, their promise to love and protect one another, ‘til death parts them, carved in obsidian. “You’re not going to like it.”

* * *

“Fair warning,” Allura started, hoping in vain to draw Lance’s attention away from the razor-sharp wing he was attempting with her royal blue eyeliner, but his gaze and focus remained steadfast on his reflection and he merely gave a small grunt in acknowledgement. “Father wishes to speak to you about something of importance.”

“Are you sure?” Lance asked, tilting his head this way and that as he judged the symmetry of his make-up (almost perfect, but it seemed like his left eye was bigger than his right and he wasn’t sure why). “He never wants to talk to me about important things, those fall to your shoulders.”

“Mother insisted.”

At that, Lance placed his brush down and stared down at his empty hands. “Oh.”

Allura sighed. “Don’t say it like that.”

Lance shook his shoulders back, packing Allura’s make-up back into her bag and shoving his stool away from the vanity. His fists were still clenched on the benchtop.

"She’s just worried about you,” Allura started. Lance lifted a hand to cut her off.

“Don’t make apologies for her. She’s worried about the Kingdom,” Lance corrected her through gritted teeth.

“I wish you would give her more credit. She’s our mother, not some soulless tyrant.” Allura perched on the edge of her bed and kicked out at Lance’s chair, spinning him round to face her. He tucked his knees to his chest and curled in on himself. Allura wasn’t sure if he was trying to make himself smaller or if it was just the weight of expectation drawing him inwards. 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Lance muttered. He sighed heavily. His chin rested on his knees as he looked at Allura with wide eyes, as though she held the answers to their mother’s mysteries. Allura wished she did, especially when her brother looked at her like that.

Allura understood his indignation. Why Queen Inarea kept demanding Lance leap through hoops to prove himself was beyond her. The people loved him. Foreign ambassadors raved about him. The bards wrote songs of his brains and his beauty. Despite being a second child, despite having no claim to the throne, he was never bitter. He never resented Allura for a happenstance of birth. Yet for their mother, somehow, it was still never enough.

“It’s best to get it over with, delaying the inevitable will only make you fear the worst. Who knows, perhaps your fears are for naught and Hecate has decided it’s time for you to perform the Druidic Rites,” Allura suggested. Lance’s lips twitched upwards and like a flash his reluctance was gone. He shimmied his shoulders, blinked the mist from his eyes and bounced out of the chair like nothing in the world could phase him.

"Then we'd best get moving," he said. He looped his arm through Allura's and went to face his fate.

Lance ambled to the throne room, pausing to chat with servants they passed about this and that and how many kittens their cat had and how their art exhibition was going. In the gaps between people, Allura asked about his music lessons, his magic, his rounds in the gladiator rings, his new guns; anything to keep his spirits high and his mind far from that black hole that sucked the joy out of her brother’s eyes.

Queen Inarea sat on her stark grey throne, back straight, hunters gaze set on the High Scientist, Eazias, who stood at the foot of her throne. Her hair flowed around her like pink clouds at dawn, she dressed in a long blue dress that was perfectly tailored to her every curve. Above her there was a canopy of sheer white fabric, fringed with sapphire and decorated with purple juniberry flowers, strung from the ceiling with a chain of gold links. Each end of the canopy was tugged to the side and held in place by banners bearing the Altean emblem, the crisp white lines slicing through a black shield.  

Allura wished that Alfor had been there. He was good at diffusing a tense situation. But his throne was empty. He had been the one to call for this meeting, yet he’d made a wise (and cowardly) decision and scarpered. She supposed that was fair. It was Inarea who wanted Lance to go, it was Inarea who should break the news.

Inarea looked up and acknowledged Allura and Lance with a nod.

Eazias rifled through the papers he held, swinging back and forth from front to back, handing Inarea specific pages only to take them off her again in the next breath and hand her another one.

“My dear Eazais,” Inarea interrupted his tangent, her gentle voice cutting through his excitement. “We must continue this discussion later. For now, I must talk with my son.”

Eazais turned and when he noticed Lance and Allura he jumped a good foot into the air, dropping a few of his papers in his haste. “Gosh! Children! When did you get here?” He knelt to pick up his scattered notes and pressed a kiss to Inarea’s hand while he was bowing. He scurried down the dais towards them, beaming to himself the whole way. “I am sorry to interrupt family time, but I discovered an anomaly in the healing pod system and if I can set it right then we may be able to increase healing time tenfold! Can you imagine?”

“It sounds impossible,” said Lance, “but if anyone can do it it’s you.”

Eazais left the room whistling a cheery ditty. Once he was gone, Inarea let herself slouch in her throne for a moment before rising to meet her children at the base of the steps. She pulled them both into a hug, tucking them under one arm each and squeezing them tight.

“I have good news,” she started.

Allura and Lance made a face at each other behind her back. Inarea pulled away but kept one hand on each of their shoulders. She was practically vibrating with excitement.     

“I received a letter from my dear friend Thisbe,” said Inarea. Lance perked up at that. Although Thisbe and Inarea were childhood friends, they had only met the Galran Empress once, when they were far too young to remember any details beyond a kind laugh and a sense of safety. “Her son is well into adulthood now. He recently returned home after an expedition into some of the unexplored pockets of their galaxy, apparently, he desires to find a husband.”

There was a split-second where it looked as though Lance might fall apart. Inarea never saw it. He bounced back so quickly that even Allura wondered if she imagined it. He bombarded Inarea with an avalanche of questions; about when they would travel, what Daibazaal was like, who would be allowed to come with them. He looked to all the world like there was nothing he wanted more than to woo the Galran heir. Although, Allura noticed distantly, in all his excitement, he didn’t ask a single question about the Prince. 

* * *

If Lance was going to escape, he would have to go now.

He’d spent the past week playing the role Inarea expected of him, packing his bags and gushing to all who would listen about how excited he was for the next engagement ball. At night though, he packed another bag. He talked to soldiers he trusted with his life. He arranged a ship that would take him off planet and into an adventure that terrified him. If Lance was going to escape, he wasn’t sure if he was ever going to be welcomed back.

“You should’ve bribed Witton with more than Coran’s food. He squealed to me before I even started questioning him,” a voice said from behind him. Lance spun round, chopping at the air with flat hands until he realised it was just Allura standing there. He clutched at his heart and exhaled heavily.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” Lance yelped.

Allura leaned in the doorway and smirked. “Gets you every time.”

Lance turned away with a huff and went back to rifling through his bag, triple checking that he had everything he needed for the journey ahead.

“I’m sorry she’s making you do this again, but you have to know that running away will solve nothing. You’ll only break her heart and your own.”

Lance shot her a wry look. “My heart will be broken no matter where I go.”

Lance didn’t know why Inarea insisted on accepting the invitations to engagement balls. By now he was nothing more than an embarrassment to the family. He was sure that Thisbe’s invitation was nothing more than a token of good faith. He doubted they ever expected he or Inarea to accept.          

“Please Lance,” Allura reached out a hand and let it rest in the air between them, “don’t do this.”

Lance lurched to his feet. He turned to her with fists clenched and a hundred arguments in line on his tongue. That these events were archaic, that the love was never true, that it was a political farce and nothing more. But Allura was running her hand through the end of her hair frantically, the way she always did when she was stressed, and the hand she stretched out was wracked with tremors. These events may be a farce but Allura’s fear was not. He couldn’t do this to her. And she knew it.

“Are they really so bad that you have to _run away_?” Allura pleaded. “You’re my brother, you’re my blood, you can’t just fly off into the void without a goodbye for no good reason. It is just a ball Lance, you’ve been to plenty, what’s one more?”

Lance’s stone face crumbled. His eyes welled with tears that shone with the blue light of his markings and rolled down his face like shooting stars. “Do you know what it’s like? Can you imagine what it feels like to spend a week thinking that someone is in love with you, to believe with all your heart that you’re falling in love with them and then to have it ripped out from under you and to be sent home? For everyone to look at you and know that no matter how you may seem there must be something wrong with you, because people never choose you?”

Allura was rendered speechless, Lance’s words were a raging fire that pulled the oxygen from the room leaving nothing for her to counter with. He paced the length of the room, back and forth like a caged animal.

“When will she let me _rest_? If it’s not this ball it’ll be another one. She’s relentless. Despite all my hopes I _know_ that his prince will be no different.” Lance went on, counting off each point on his hands as he spoke. “He will be kind and courteous, he will show me the wonders of his world, he will shower me with compliments.” His hands fell to his sides, palms facing Allura. “And I will be a fool.” He paused, drawing in deep ragged breaths. “I will think that he’s treating me differently to the other guests. I will think that I am special, that this time is _my_ time to be chosen. But it will all be in my head. In the end he will choose someone else and I will come home and wait for an escape but instead all that comes is another invitation.”

All the wind went out Lance’s sails at once. He fell to the ground, boneless. Everything hurt when he cried, his head, his heart, his eyes, even the roof of his mouth. But his tears emptied him of his rage and without it he wasn’t looking for escape. He wasn’t ready to leave his family. His heart was a hollow and fractured thing. He wanted time to heal. He wanted his bed. He wanted to crawl into piles of blankets and pillows and cry until the stars burned out.

“This will be the last one,” Allura promised, tucking Lance into her chest with one arm and wrapping her pinky around Lance’s own. She pressed her cheek against his and held him close. “And this time, I’ll go with you.”

* * *

Keith didn’t know if he should be offended with how easily Shiro took the news of the Ball. He had laughed at Keith’s outrage and shared none of it. There was a comfort though, in how secure Shiro was in their relationship. When Keith had told him, he’d had fears of jealous rage. Of course, they were entirely baseless. Shiro took it all as a big joke, a small speed bump on their way to happiness at most. It was sweet, and it was hard to be offended by an act of love.

However, whether Shiro would be quite so content with it all after sitting through stuffy dinners with pompous princes and even more dismal dances with the sods, Keith wasn’t sure. Keith certainly wasn’t content as he suffered at the hands of the royal tailor.

“Prince Keith, I have asked you many times to please, stop, fidgeting,” their voice pitched higher in exasperation as they tried their best to lay the shoulders of his jacket just so.

Keith rolled his eyes. The welcoming dance was in under a varga, what the tailor was going to do in that time was a mystery to Keith. His clothes would fit and sit, or they wouldn’t. If a puckered jacket bothered anyone then, well, it was a good way of weeding out the most arrogant amongst the crowd. He had told the tailor as such, but they didn’t think much to his suggestion. Taking pride in your appearance was apparently a mark of self-respect and dignity. Keith thought back to the last time he groomed his fur and chuckled to himself. He wondered what they’d think of his self-respect if he told him that he hadn’t even changed out of his clothes to sleep for the past week.

The tailor was skilled though, Keith would give him that much.

Custom dictated that armour was strictly prohibited from the dance. It would be a sign of reluctance and defence on an evening celebrating heart and hospitality. Thus, the suit.

It was elegant in its simplicity. The pants were practical, light grey and comfortable. His shirt was again, simple and practical but white. It was the coat that was the centrepiece, everything else was just, framing. It wasn’t ornate or lavish, but it was striking. It reminded him of a commander’s jacket. Instead of the standard black, it was made from a deep rich red that offset his eyes. The back was longer than the front, it fell to the backs of Keith’s knees in two tails that curved up to meet at his bellybutton. Once there, strands of black fabric criss-crossed to the opposing sides in a series of interweaving X’s up his torso. Each piece was fastened with a silver button engraved with the Galran crest.

The tailor fastened a grey cloak to Keith’s shoulder. It trailed to the floor and Keith thought it best not to comment on how wholly impractical it was to wander round wearing a glorified bed sheet.

“What do you think?” They patted down the shoulders of Keith’s jacket one last time and stepped away.

“I look like a King,” Keith realised with a start. The tailor smiled and left him with instructions on how to hang his clothes at the end of the night so they wouldn't wrinkle. Keith stared at his reflection, shifting left to right until he’d taken it all in. He’d never cared much for how he dressed, never thought much about his appearance beyond practicality and ferocity. But, in this fancy get up he understood why the tailor had gone to so much effort. Dressed like this, Keith might’ve even been charming.

Making his way to the Grand Hall, Keith found Shiro and Pidge chatting in the hallway waiting for him. Shiro was dressed for the evening in a much more simplistic, military suit made in the Galran colours. Keith preened, his fiancé was far too handsome in greys and purples. Beside him, Pidge was wearing the traditional tunic and baggy pants of the Olkari. Some had found it strange that the Olkari would choose a human as their diplomatic ambassador, but Pidge had proved perfect for the role and nowadays sceptics were few and far between. 

Shiro let out a low whistle at the sight of Keith as his eyes raked up and down his form. “Do you have to return the clothes by midnight or they’ll turn into a pumpkin?” He asked. Pidge snorted while Keith just stared between them, completely baffled.

“Why would my clothes turn into a pumpkin?” Keith cocked his head to the side. “Is that a common problem on Earth?”

“Only for princesses,” Pidge supplied helpfully.

Shiro waved his hand, trying to stifle his laughter. “Don’t worry about it. Long story. I can tell you later.”

Keith still looked doubtful but there was no time to teach him about the ins and outs of Cinderella before a passing servant swept them up to guide them to their positions.

Just one step into the Great Hall and Keith was speechless. He came to a startled halt at the top of the wide staircase and stared around himself in wonder. He would give them this, when Thisbe and Pidge worked on a party, they went all out. Keith had seen the hall decorated for hundreds of events in his life, but tonight it felt like he was walking into a whole new room.

The stone ceiling arched far in the air above them, a feat of architecture in its curving domes and harsh lines. All along the exposed rafters, they’d placed candles that burned with a cool purple glow. Sparks burned in the air like falling stars, dissipating into nothingness long before they could harm any of the guests. Tonight, the candles were the only light save for the bright glow of the Serenity Moon through the many windows that lined either side of the hall.

Countless floral arrangements adorned the tables around the edge of the room and filled the air with a rich and heady scent. The tables left ample space for dancing in the centre of the room. There would be plenty of dancing. Keith's feet ached in anticipation. At the far end of the hall, beneath the largest of the ornate stained-glass windows, the band were setting up their instruments with deft motions.

Only a handful of guests had arrived, not suitors but ambassadors like Pidge who were here out of respect rather than romance. A herald announced Keith’s presence and they turned and cheered him with glasses flowing with Nunvil. 

Keith let Shiro lead him over to the group and tried not to long for a steady hand in his, or even just shoulders bumping together, but they couldn’t risk any touch being misconstrued so early in the game. So, Keith clenched his fists tighter against his hips and smiled warmly at his guests and played the role of excited Prince as best he knew how. Which, wasn’t particularly well if Pidge’s exasperated eye-rolls and sighs were anything to go by.

“You know,” Pidge said as they moved away to greet a group of newcomers. “You might want to act like you want to be here.”

Keith grimaced. “I thought I was doing alright considering, I don’t.”

“Wow, I never would’ve guessed.”

“I’m only here because it’s my duty, not because it’s my choice.”

“And you’re making that obvious. All I’m saying is try smiling. Who knows, this could be the start of something new,” Pidge sniggered before composing themselves and patted Keith’s shoulder.  “Just, look alive Keith.”

Keith sighed heavily and put a little more effort in with his next introductions. Unfortunately, it seemed the suitors had arrived. It was easy to act civil amongst delegates and ambassadors, but among fools who thought he would fall at their feet when they waved their achievements in his face, he found his thin veneer of patience cracking. Every introduction seemed to blur together in a stream of names and hands and flirtatious purring that had the fur on the back of Keith’s neck rising beneath his collar.

Sometime in the evening Queen Thisbe made her speech welcoming the honoured guests. Then, the true nightmare began.

Dancing.

Oh by the nine gods, why dancing was necessary was beyond Keith. Talking had been painful but dancing took everything Keith had left to give. Remembering to smile was a distant concern. Memorizing each step, the prolonged physical contact, the small talk and flirting; all of it piled up until he felt like if he didn’t get a quiet moment to sit on his own he would pop.

At least Shiro seemed to be enjoying himself. He was dancing with a young serving girl away from the main crowd, spinning her round and lifting her into the air. He danced with the same grace that he fought with. Keith was about to make his excuses to his partner and join Shiro for a time when the Herald’s voice run through the hall over the chatter and music, as clear as a war drum.

“My lords, my ladies, my generals, good people from here and far. If it please you, I have the honour to present to you, the children of King Alfor and Queen Inarea, Princess Allura and Prince Lance of the planet Altea.”   

Princess Allura held herself like a Queen, that was the first thing that Keith noticed. It was also the last thing about Allura that held his attention. His gaze shifted to the right and, stopped.

Keith’s breath caught in his chest.

Beside Allura was a god crafted from a supernova. An ethereal being who had no business walking the paths of mortals.

This god cared for his appearance. His short brown hair was slicked back and held in place by a circlet of stars. He was tall and lithe, his build clear even beneath his ornate clothes. He wore a deep blue suit, tailored to contour to the lines of his body and embroidered with silver detailing that curved and swooped and dotted his arms, stretching out like tree branches. Around his neck were three golden chains, bound together sporadically by small hoops. Blue and gold; a god of night eternal.         

When Keith looked into his eyes, even from the distance, he was sure he was drowning. There was a tug in his belly that drew him ever nearer across the dancefloor and he wondered if others were feeling it too. They must. How could they not? This was the Altean sorcery that they were famed and feared for. What else could it be? But when he tore his eyes away to see how others fared against this enchanter, he found them wholly unaffected.

He had no time to ponder their immunity before his feet had brought him right to the source of his turmoil.

The god bowed deeply from the waist, his right hand curled over his heart and his left extended towards Keith.

“Prince Keith,” his voice was deep and gentle. “Thank you for inviting me into your home. I apologise for my delayed arrival.”

Keith bowed his head in greeting, looking up at Lance through his lashes all the while. “I’m glad you deigned to show up.”

The corner of Lance’s mouth twitched upwards. “Wild nunvars couldn’t keep me away.”

Allura interrupted Lance to introduce herself to Keith and then disappeared into the fray of the crowd. Keith still couldn’t tell you what she looked like.

“Do I get a dance, Your Highness? Or is that privilege reserved for those who arrive on time?” Lance asked. His blue eyes flashed with mirth and Keith couldn’t stop himself from holding out a hand. Lance’s hands were calloused against Keith’s own. That small detail snapped Keith out of his haze. Those were not a god’s hands, they were those of someone who trained and worked hard, despite their status. Those were hands he could respect. By the nine gods though, even his fingers were beautiful.

Keith shot a mental apology to Shiro, feeling ever so slightly disloyal. But he could indulge himself in one dance. It would look suspicious if he refused. This was his engagement ball, he was supposed to be testing the waters. This just happened to be the only pool of water that excited him. 

On the dancefloor he fumbled his footwork more than he’d like to admit while he tried to force his quaking heart to relax. He frowned at his feet. This was a song he’d danced to since childhood in near endless lessons (skiving off dance lessons seemed like a good idea only once, and then he had been barred from the sparring room and given extra dance instruction for the next two months; the punishment wasn’t worth a varga of freedom). Yet, Lance just had to bat his eyelashes and Keith’s feet gave out from under him. Where was muscle memory when you needed it?

“If you fight as poorly as you dance then I fear for the glory of the Galran armies,” Lance teased. Keith gritted his teeth and went to fling a retort back when he caught on to the playful grin and lack of bite in Lance’s words. Lance was trying to get a rise out of him. Why? Keith had no idea. But if it was a spar Lance wanted, he would get one.

Keith spun Lance round so his back was against Keith’s chest as they sailed over the dance floor. He spun him back and wrapped a hand round Lance’s waist, keeping his hand firmly in Lance’s own. He smirked. “I don’t know how things are done on Altea, but on Daibazaal fighting is quite different to dancing. There tends to be more weaponry involved.”

Lance spun Keith without warning. He stumbled on his two left feet, but Lance was there to steady him and pull him back upright. “They’re both just fancy footwork.”

Keith laughed. “Well if my footwork gets much fancier I’ll be out of breath to talk.”

“Perhaps that’d be an improvement.”

Keith took his hand from Lance’s waist and mimed zipping his lips. Through the next few bars of the song he focused on steadying his breathing and clearing his mind so that he could get the steps under control. He wouldn’t let one poncy Altean lead him to make a fool of himself.

It was Lance who broke the silence between them. “Are you enjoying having people fawn over you? It's got to be a good ego boost."

"My ego does fine without vapid comments to stoke it," said Keith, dipping Lance low to the ground until his jacket tails dragged across the stone. "Although I wouldn't complain about getting a few more."

Lance laughed, hand tightening around Keith's own as he pulled him back up to standing. "I wasn't asking to compliment you further, I wanted to know how many pegs I had to knock you down to level out the rest of them."

"That's hardly a good flirting strategy."

"Well," Lance stepped closer until he was chest to chest with Keith. "Maybe I don't think I have to win you over with flattery. Maybe I think my radiant looks and charming smile will be more than enough."

Keith rolled his eyes. "Vanity will get you nowhere."

"You know, I’ve heard the same of flattery." Lance countered. "So, if vanity and flattery are both out, how, pray tell, does someone woo the great and powerful Galran heir?"'

Keith pretended to think about it for a few beats of the song. He’d fallen into the rhythm now and his shy shuffling steps transformed into great sweeping strides. In the beginning, the waltz had been made far harder than it needed to be by Lance’s bad habit of trying to take the lead. But finally, he had acquiesced. Keith spun them round in dizzying, impromptu spins that allowed his cape to flare out around them in a waft of smoky fabric.

“Bravery." Keith suggested.

“Well," Lance never faltered in his steps as he drifted after Keith to the haunting sound of the strings. "I think it was brave just showing up here, putting my best foot forward and my heart on the line. I'd think that was the bravest thing I could do."

"And what about my heart? I think it's far braver that I opened myself up to all this rejection."

"Pfft, nobody here is here to reject you. You're the one who does the heart-breaking Keith."

“Quite familiar to use my name don't you think?"

"What would you prefer? Your Highness? My liege? Lionheart? Fluffy? Sugarplum? Dearest?"

Keith was glad that he didn't blush in the way that Shiro did when he was embarrassed, because being called ‘sugarplum’ did things to his heart that he did not sanction. How could such a ridiculous pet name from such a ridiculous man set his heart aflutter? Every dance with every other suitor so far had been a tedious chore to get through, and here was this silly Prince insulting him and Keith’s heart thought it was time to flutter? He was ridiculous. 

"Keith is fine." He choked out.

Lance just laughed, a sound more melodic than anything produced by the orchestra they danced to. He was truly feeling the music now, rolling his hips and shoulders through each languid step. Keith held on tighter. If he didn't, it felt as though Lance would slip right through his fingers and away into the night never to be seen again. As it was, he could hear the song coming to an end and he wondered if it would be too forward to ask for a second dance.

"I think I'll find a better name for you yet," said Lance. “Before the week is through.”

“Do you anticipate a reward for your antics?”

“Merely being here is reward enough.”

No matter how tightly Keith held on, he could still feel Lance drifting out of his orbit; their steps falling out of sync as the symphony waned.

* * *

 

Shiro cast his gaze over the crowd as a tiny royal heir rattled off a lengthy explanation of the trade negotiations their planet was caught in. Shiro bit back a yawn as they babbled on about the complications that come with importing lifeforms from distant planets. He had been dragged away from the servants’ dance and he yearned for their buoyant joy.

Finally, he spotted Keith through the crowd. Shiro perked up instantly. Keith was…Keith was having fun? Or at least it looked that way. Keith was moving fluidly and naturally, swaying to the music with a handsome Prince who looked impossibly human. They were laughing. Shiro felt the corners of his own mouth tilt upwards.

Something didn’t sit right with Shiro though. Keith was relaxed and happy, but the other Prince was a different story. Shiro had seen Keith dance with countless guests throughout the evening and they’d been preening, swaggering, cocky, shy, uncomfortable and eager. This one though, he was distant. His hand hovered over Keith’s waist without quite touching. His smiles just fell short of his eyes. He was reserved; exuberant and vibrant yes but also somehow guarded.

Shiro found himself making his apologies and striding across the ballroom. His protective instincts flared before he even realised what was happening. He’s not sure who they’re for; whether he’s going over there to interrogate the stranger and see if he’s a threat to Keith, or if he’s going to talk to a melancholy prince to see if he’s coping.

“Mind if I cut in?” Shiro arrived at their side right as the last notes resonated in the air above them. 

Keith yielded Lance to Shiro, pressing a kiss to Lance’s hand before he was swept into the arms of the next suitor. There was a question in Keith's eyes he'd have to answer later. There was no chance to explain now. The suitors were like vultures, Shiro thought, swooping in on Keith before the next song had even begun. He did his best not to follow him with his eyes. He failed.

“I thought you were hoping to dance with Prince Keith,” said Lance.

Shiro barked out a solitary laugh. “I had to suffer through the early days of his remedial practises, my feet still haven’t recovered.”

Lance’s frown was a small and subtle thing, a slight shift in his brow as he bit the inside of his lip. It was an expression easily missed if you weren’t looking for it. Which of course, Shiro was.

“I’ve been travelling with him,” Shiro explained, though it did little to ease the tension in Lance’s expression. “I come from a planet called Earth, our technology can’t handle travelling this far and Keith kindly let me aboard his ship to explore the furthest reaches of the galaxy. I teach him about my small galaxy, he shows me the vast world beyond it.”

“Well, if you’ve been suffering through his practises, that must mean you’re quite the dancer yourself…” Lance held his hand up for Shiro to take a hold of as he waited for him to fill his name in the gap.

Shiro held up his prosthetic hand to mirror Lance’s and found himself surprised when Lance interlaced their fingers and wrapped an arm round Shiro’s waist. “My name is Shiro.”

“Prince Lance of Altea,” Lance introduced himself. “No titles?”

“Ha,” Shiro laughed, “not a chance.”

“What that must be like,” Lance whispered wistfully.

The orchestra were starting up with the next song, their instruments so reminiscent of Earth that a wave of nostalgia rocked through Shiro. What those great composers would’ve thought if they’d known their music was an echo of melodies that existed across distant and wondrous galaxies. He shook the thoughts away, allowing Lance to take the lead as the orchestra struck up in earnest.

“I hate these events,” admitted Shiro, fishing a little for the truth while offering Lance a way to vent whatever was weighing him down. “Everyone feels like they’re wearing a mask.”

Lance winked at him. “I promise you this is the face I was born with.”

“Keith told me that every aristocrat has a mask, even when they don’t mean to.”

“Keith could be right. Though, don't tell him I said that. I fear it would go to his head.”

 Lance's hand was featherlight in Shiro's own, fingers long and graceful and fragile between Shiro's. Lance went to step back and Shiro pulled him closer, preventing him from battering into another couple. He gave soft thanks, intently focused on Shiro’s chin.

Lance gripped Shiro's hand a little tighter. “We are raised from birth to exist for our people first, ourselves second. I don't know if it's the same for every ruler but that is how it is on Altea. It is more important that we live by our duty, than by our own hearts and minds."

"That..." Shiro struggled for something comforting to say. But what was there after an admission like that? He’d commanded expeditions, but he’d never felt a weight like that on his shoulders. He found his steps slowing and falling out of time, even with Lance’s masterful leading.

"Duty is important, but I'm sure even your people would want you to be happy more than a..."

“Calm down Shiro,” Lance cut him off with a dazzling smile. “You don’t need to comfort me, that was way too heavy for a first dance on my part, I apologize. It’s just something my history master used to say; ‘matters of the heart are fleeting and fragile but matters of politics are eternal’." His mouth sagged as he quoted his old history master and he said the phrase with such derision that Shiro found himself snorting.

Silence reigned between them. Despite Shiro’s off-kilter pace, Lance barely faltered and never complained. He’d taken all the spins and complicated steps out of it and now they were basically just performing a simple box step in place.

“What if duty and heart were to align?” Shiro asked curiously, hoping he wasn’t putting his foot in his mouth so quickly. He’d quickly dismissed Lance as a threat to Keith, now he wanted to help him. It was just, impossible to do when all he knew of Lance was that he was a good dancer, a duty-bound prince, he made Keith smile and he was beautiful. Those facts weren’t exactly conducive to an effective therapy session.

Lance smiled ruefully, not seeming to mind the question at all. “Then you don’t just have a fit ruler, you have a great one. Which is basically my sister."

Before Shiro could ask about this sister, a woman cut between their dance. Her skin was a few shades darker than Lance’s, and her hair was as white as clouds on a summers day, but they had the same eyes and the same proud nose and there was little question as to who she was. It was as though the mere mention of her name had summoned her, like some kind of regal cloud witch.

“Lance," she began. "Are you gossiping about me?"

“When aren’t I?” Lance teased back. Shiro’s lips twitched at the playful lilt in Lance’s voice.

Allura rolled her eyes and sighed heavily.  She wrapped an arm around her brother, tugging him tight under her arm and ruffling his hair. While he spluttered at her and tried to fix his hair, Alura shot Shiro a glare that froze him to the core. Shiro didn’t know what he’d done to deserve her ire but he crumbled under the steady weight of her gaze.

“So, what have you been saying?” Allura asked, tone light and airy despite the ice in her eyes.

"Nothing but the truth sister dear," Lance grinned at Shiro, happy with his hair now and still oblivious to Allura's disdain.

"I doubt that," Allura's tone was a terrifying thing. Shiro found himself floundering for words, something to break through the silence that was growing around them. He found none. Before he had time to gather anything at all, Allura was guiding Lance away through the crowd, saying something about old friends and how the 'punch is simply divine, you must try it'.

Shiro was left standing alone, unnerved and unsteady on the dancefloor, while the band struck up for the next song.

 _Well_ , he thought to himself as he watched Allura and Lance walk away, _this week just got a whole lot more interesting._

* * *

Despite the dancing and despite the travel, Lance struggled to fall asleep that night. When he closed his eyes, his mind was plagued with a metal hand, violet eyes, rounded ears and the ghost of shy fingers intertwined with his own. He pressed a pillow into his face and groaned.

“Don’t do it you idiot. Don’t you quiznacking dare.”

* * *

“By the nine gods Shiro,” Keith flopped backwards onto the bed, folding his arms over his eyes and groaning. “I don’t think I can survive a week of this.”

“I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” Shiro kicked off his shoes and tucked them back into the hidden hallway he’d snuck through. It was easy enough for him to dive under the covers if any servants made an early morning round, but leaving his clothing lying around was like a giant flashing sign broadcasting their relationship to the palace gossips. Now was not the time to slip up.

“I thought it went quite well,” Shiro continued when Keith responded with nothing more than a louder groan. “You didn’t fight anyone.”

Keith sat up, pulling a pillow with him and resting his chin on it as he watched Shiro undress. “It was a close call with that Zinfandellian lord, he kept stepping on my toes and then blaming _me_ for being out of time.”

Shiro tossed off his shirt and winked at him. “At least Prince Lance isn’t too tough on the eyes.”

“That’s an understatement,” Keith mumbled into his pillow. “Did you get to dance with him?”

“Once,” Shiro smiled fondly. “He’s a character, isn’t he?”

Keith hummed softly as Shiro crawled under the covers and held out his arms for Keith to snuggle into. Spooned up against Shiro’s chest, Keith felt the exhaustion of the day settle into his bones and after exchanging quiet ‘i-love-you’s, he was out like a light.

* * *

There hadn’t been much time for Lance to appreciate his room the night before, but as the sunlight filtered through the purple drapes and he lazily stretched across his bed he let his eyes wander round his temporary home. Light decanted across the stone floor and ambled round intricately carved marble pillars that told the epic tales of long lost kings. It flickered through Lance’s lazily dumped bags, shining brightly on streams of blue and white fabrics that spilled out of his cases. Moving on, it clambered over a round dining table and pottered through a small training area until it idly sunk into a deep stone bath on the opposite side of the room and wafted through the rising steam.

Either the Galra were wealthy enough to house all Keith’s guests in such a fashion, or his mother had pulled some serious strings with Thisbe. His room was very nearly as grand as his own quarters back home, although lacking in all personal touches and decidedly more purple. 

Lance knew that the door to the left led to a private bathroom, and the door to the right led to his squire’s room. He hoped Hunk’s accommodations were to a similar standard. He deserved some luxury after his ghastly travel sickness.

Allura’s room was on the other side of Hunk’s. Last night, before the dancing, they’d all decided to convene in Hunk’s room in the morning to strategize for the day’s events. Looking at the light in his room, Lance was already late for their team huddle.

Lance rolled over and buried his face in the pillows. He was more than happy to just laze in his bed until he slept right through the day, the dinner, maybe even the rest of the week. His mother would undoubtedly hear about that though.

He propelled himself from the bed without giving himself time to think about it any further. Once standing he slapped his cheeks to wake himself up, shuffled his feet into his fluffy lion slippers, adjusted his pajamas and strode into Hunk’s room.

“Morning all,” Lance plonked himself down on the empty seat at the table between Allura and Hunk.

“Lance! You have got to try this man. I have no idea what plant these came from, but I’m in love with it. Do you think they’ll let me take some back to Altea? Because I don’t think I can live the rest of my life without eating this again.” Hunk slid a bowl of fruit over to Lance.

Hunk didn’t exaggerate. After one bite, Lance ready to march right to the head chef alongside Hunk and demand to know what this was because those berries were out of this galaxy good. Lance closed his eyes and moaned as he shovelled fruit blindly into his mouth.

“I know right!?” Hunk exclaimed.

“Screw Keith.” Lance spoke around his mouthful and ignored how Allura scooched her chair away from him. “I’m here to marry this fruit. I’m here for the chef, the gardeners, the botanists, the planet itself.”

“If you marry Keith, you get all of that.” Allura winked.

Lance rolled his eyes at her. “I thought you were here to help me _not_ get swept up in the romance and the emotion of this all, not push me into marriage for edible goods.”

Allura and Hunk shared a look that did not sit well in Lance’s stomach. Or maybe he’d just eaten too quickly, both were distinctly possible.

“What?”

“We were just wondering, but, why exactly are you trying to be unromantic? I get that before you left Altea it seemed like a good idea. But, last night, it’s just, it seemed like you and Keith really hit it off. Why not connect? Light a fire with those sparks that were flying,” Hunk asked.

Lance groaned. “One night of dancing and you’re ready for me to throw myself at his feet? No, nu-uh. There were no sparks and there will be no sparks. Loverboy Lance is dead for the duration of this trip. These things don’t turn out well for me OK? Why are you adding fuel to the fire? You’re supposed to be the voice of reason, not the devil on my shoulder pushing me into something that will _never_ happen.”

“But how do you know…” Hunk didn’t get to finish before Allura cut him off.

“You’re right Lance, this is your decision. We’re here for you."

“Thanks sis.” Lance was lucky to have such a good sister in his corner.

“Which means that if you _do_ decide to pursue Keith for real, then we would be the best wingmen you could ask for.” Allura added.

Lance slammed his head into the table. “You both suck.”

Hunk patted Lance’s back comfortingly. When Lance made it clear he wasn’t moving, Hunk started piling the dishes on a tray and taking them to the hallway to be collected by the castle staff. As much as Lance wanted to sulk, he knew that Allura and Hunk had his best interests at heart.

Making things work with Keith would be perfect. Politically, an alliance between Altea and Daibazaal would be a dream come true. Personally, Keith was the most refreshing person Lance had met in a long time. But, he reminded himself, that didn’t mean anything real.

Lance had a bad habit of taking small moments with someone and spinning them into something bigger and more meaningful than they were. Hunk and Allura were supposed to be there to ground him, but it felt like they wanted to cut him loose and watch him make all the same mistakes all over again. New stage, new players, same old script.

He propped his chin up in his hands and pouted at Allura. “What’s the plan for the day? How does a ravishing suitor fill his time between wooing?”

“Actually, you’re going to be doing more wooing.” Allura said.

Lance dropped his head back to the table with a soft thud. “What?”

“Don’t freak out.” 

“That’s a terrible start! Of course I’m going to freak out now!”

“It’s really nothing.”

“You’re building it up like it’s something.”

“It really isn’t so bad. It’s just that in Galran custom, at these balls there are a few quintents a day where each suitor is allowed private time with Keith.”

Lance eyed her sceptically. “There’s more isn’t there?”

Allura paused just long enough for Lance’s mind to jump to worst case scenarios. Keith must’ve been so offended by Lance last night that he’d demanded Lance be kept far away from him. Their private time must involve nudity. No, it was obvious, Allura had learned that they had private time, but they were sitting in a room and one wall was one-way glass, so they thought it was private, but all the other suitors were watching all of Lance’s mistakes!  Oh - by the stars – worst of all, Keith must’ve requested a whole day with Lance!

“You have to choose the activity,” Allura blurted out.

Lance blinked at her, his mind was slowly spinning back down from the scenarios it had been playing out. He sat back up in his chair and quirked an eyebrow at her. “Is that all?”

“Um,” Allura looked at Hunk and then back to Lance, “I think so.”

“I forget you haven’t had to do this stuff.” Lance said. “Lots of these events have dates, it's basically a huge competition of 'love me more than you love them' so you need time to get to know them. They usually choose the activity so, I mean, it’s a little unorthodox for us to choose but, Keith doesn’t seem the orthodox type.”

“You’re not stressed about what you’re going to do?”

“I’d be more stressed if he chose. If he took me off on some scripted adventure he’d take every other prince here on, then it’ll be romantic and glorious, and he’ll be as charming as he was last night. And I’d be screwed.”

Lance could see that Hunk wanted to pick apart the ‘charming’ comment and he immediately wished he could take it back. 

“So, what will you do?”

“What’s the most unromantic thing I can do?” Lance shrugged. “I’ll just do that. The less romance, the less sparks, the less chance of me falling hopelessly in infatuation and having my heartbroken. It’s brilliant.”

While Hunk and Allura thought over his logic, Lance wondered why Keith had decided to let the suitors choose. These daily ‘dates’ were usually a chance for a prince to show off his own skills. Not that it went the way they probably planned. Lance had been forced to endure the worst piloting he’d ever witnessed, a walk into a jungle with so many insects buzzing around he could barely hear what the prince was saying and most notable was definitely the free fall from a flying ship that had Lance screaming so violently he could barely speak the next day. Some people’s idea of fun baffled him. Lance’s favourite though, was the intense war strategy game that he could’ve decimated the other prince in. He’d gone easy on him to boost his ego. Maybe he shouldn’t have held back, maybe then he would’ve stood out more? He tried not to linger on the irony of that train of thought.

“Sparring?” Lance suggested.

“You already have to fight him tomorrow, it’s part of some Galra courting thing,” said Hunk.

They fell back into silence. Hunk sat back down and leaned over the table. He studied Lance like he were one of his tricky ship engines. Lance tried not to fidget, and failed.

“I’ve got it!” Hunk slammed his fist on the table. “Cooking!”

“Hunk you beautiful genius!” Lance shot out of his chair and kissed either side of Hunk’s temple.

Allura was bent over the table laughing. “If that doesn’t make him run for the hills, nothing will.”

* * *

The rest of Lance’s morning had been spent dashing around asking the castle staff if there was a small kitchen, somewhere out of the way, that he could use for his ‘date’. It wasn’t a staff member who found him the perfect spot in the end, it was some Altean-looking alien who might’ve been from the same planet as Shiro. They had the same rounded ears at least. Nearly everything else about them was different; their voice was lighter with a vastly different accent, they were smaller, skinnier and their hair was brown and fluffy.

Lance thanked them a hundred times over when they showed him to a small private kitchen. He thanked them a hundred times more when they offered to gather the ingredients Lance needed for the recipe Hunk had given him. The stars were aligning for the worst date ever conceived.

Now it was time to get the stone rolling.

Lance cursed. Unfortunately, Keith didn’t look any less ethereal out of a suit. He was just dressed in a black shirt and baggy pants and Lance still found him dashing.

“Fancy meeting you here,” greeted Lance.

“Pidge said you asked me to meet you here?” Keith sounded confused and he was staring at Lance with a small furrow between his brows.

“Nevermind,” Lance said fondly. “What have the others been forcing you to endure?”

Keith shuddered. “Prince Hector made me listen to his poetry for an entire varga.”

Lance mimed vomiting. “Is he trying to woo you or kill you?”

“I don’t know but after four doboshes I was ready to kill him.”

“I’m glad I left my poetry at home then.”

“What did you bring instead?”

Lance turned to walk down the hall and Keith fell in step beside him. “Well, I wanted to spar with you, just to see if you truly did fight better than you dance,” Lance nudged Keith’s shoulder as he teased him. “But a little mouse told me that sparring was part of Galran Courting tradition and I would get my turn with you in the ring soon enough. So…”

Keith waited while Lance let the suspense grow in the air between them. Lance drew himself up taller, drumming his hands on his thighs as he drew out the announcement. He was hoping Keith would break first and ask. Or that he’d show some kind of excitement. But he just walked along amiably with those big round eyes and his saint-like patience.

“Cooking!” Lance blurted out.

“Are you any good?” Keith asked bluntly.

Lance laughed. “Oh, stars no, I’m terrible in the kitchen. The staff back home won’t let me come _near_ their ovens. I get my own private kitchen away from everyone else so I can’t ‘taint their space’.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be winning me over with your skills? Proving your worth as a match? It sounds as though you’re sabotaging yourself.”

“Well, if Hector gets to read you his poetry, I get to make you taste my cooking.”

Lance hoped Keith would leave it at that, but after a sharp elbow in the ribs and a questioning gaze his hopes were dashed.

Lance sighed. “If this were to work out, if we did marry, it’s inevitable that you’d see me at my worst. I don’t get the point of acting like I’m so much better than I am just to, pull the curtains away once we’re married and reveal all the flaws now you’re trapped. Better to put it all out in the open now, you can take me or leave me.”

Lance’s speech was a rehash of something he’d said to Allura earlier. She’d pounced on him while he was doing his make-up for the day, steadfastly convinced that he didn’t really want to hold Keith at arms’ length and went on about how Hunk was right, that any blind person could see that there was something between Lance and Keith. Suffice to say, Lance hadn’t been impressed.

Seeing that she wasn’t getting anywhere, Allura had shifted tactic and asked him how he was going to act around Keith. She’d pointed out that it would be hard for him to put up walls and be defensive when he was typically so open and empathetic. He’d gone off on his own tangent about his brilliant acting skills and he could wow the crowd in any role he was given. Under her steady scrutiny though, eerily similar to Keith’s silent probing, he’d told her that he’d just be himself because it had been proven time and time again, no one wanted Lance at full force. He was too energetic, or too cavalier, or too enthusiastic, or too emotional. Whatever it was, Lance was always just too much. Walls and a chilly demeanour were obsolete, being himself was the best role Lance could play to put Keith off.

It’d upset her to hear her brother talk about himself like that, but even Allura couldn’t fault that logic. If she and Hunk were somehow right, then at least Lance had been honest with Keith about his own true self.

In any case, ‘operation: don’t be an idiot and fall in love with Keith’ was far more about Lance’s own heart than Keith’s. It didn’t matter what Keith thought of him, it just mattered how Lance felt about that.

Keith was oblivious to Lance’s little trip down memory lane. He stared at his feet as they walked on in silence. By the time he looked up to speak again they were at the kitchens and Lance had chalked his little speech up as point one for mission un-charming.

“You have refreshing candour,” Keith said. He perched himself on the kitchen counter beside Lance’s array of ingredients. “I would rather take someone who owns his flaws than someone who pretends they aren’t there.”

Abort mission. Abort. Abort. Lance saw his plan spiralling into the void and hoped his face didn’t show his panic. Keith wasn’t supposed to find this refreshing, this was supposed to be worse than whoever Hector was reading his stars-cursed poetry. This was supposed to show that he was silly, and didn't take things seriously, and make Keith back right off Lance and take his kind words and bright eyes elsewhere. Preferably somewhere far from where they could stir up the all too eager butterflies in Lance’s stomach. Quiznak.

There was nothing to do for it now. Hunk and Allura had suggested cooking because Lance was cursed. Hunk was phenomenal in the kitchen and he had done his best to teach him all he could. But despite years of practise, Lance couldn’t cook or bake a single thing to any quality standard. Even Queen Inarea refused to try any of Lance’s creations. When your food is so bad that your own mother refuses to even fake eat it, you know you should probably step away from the kitchen. Lance chose not to pick up on that memo. Cooking was too much fun. 

Anyway, Lance’s plan wasn’t a total failure yet. All he needed to do was make Keith taste his food and he'd say something mean and Lance's soft heart .

“Hunk gave me a recipe for a simple cake,” said Lance.

“Hunk?” Keith asked.

Lance grabbed the flour and started measuring it out into cups. “My best friend, and my squire, and Altea’s best engineer, and our part-time palace chef. He’s a man of many talents.”

The only sign Keith had heard him was his soft hum. He watched carefully as Lance sifted flour into the bowl. “How can I help?”

"These ingredients have to be melted together before they can go in the mix,” Lance waved his hand over the butter and chocolate. “There should be a card somewhere there with the measurements on them for you to work

“Got it.”

While Lance resumed weighing out the sugar and cocoa, Keith carefully cut the butter and chocolate into small chunks and dropped them in the pan that was conveniently resting on the stove.

“What have you been doing today?” Keith asked.

“Preparing for this moment,” Lance winked.

Keith’s laugh echoed in the mostly empty kitchen. “Sounds better than my day.”

“Seriously? It can’t have been all bad. They can’t have all been Hector.”

“They weren’t.” Keith had put all his ingredients in the pan and was now rummaging through the drawers looking for a spoon. “But they were all…they weren’t…there was no spark with any of them?”

Again with the bloody sparks. Lance couldn’t escape them.

“Are sparks really that vital to falling in love?”

“Probably not but, I know what falling in love feels like, and I can’t see it happening with any of them.” Keith must’ve said more than he meant to because he froze up like he’d been ejected into deep space.

Lance decided not to push the matter. It was an opening for all sorts of questions, he definitely had his fair share after that comment. But he couldn’t bring himself to ask them. Keith looked so frightened with his ears pulled back tight to his head and shoulders closing himself in. Lance was a curious person and he liked pushing people’s buttons, but he knew when to let things go. He didn’t have any right to make Keith air out his dirty laundry if he didn’t want to. Instead he just mixed the dry ingredients far more than necessary while he let Keith thaw himself out.

Keith didn’t speak again until he was finished with his part of the recipe. Even then it was just a soft ‘done’ as he flicked the stove off. Lance shifted away from the bowl to give him room, but their hips still brushed when Keith moved closer to pour his mix in. He noted with absentminded curiosity that neither of them moved away.

“I don’t think this is right,” Lance snorted. He pulled the spoon out of the bowl and with it came half the cake batter in one solid mound. It might’ve made a good loaf of bread, but it was far from cake-like.

Keith picked up his spoon and plunged it right into the mix, pulling out a lump of batter about the size of Lance’s thumb and shoving it in his mouth. Lance waited patiently for the verdict, not in the slightest bit tempted to try it for himself.

“It’s actually not that bad,” said Keith.

Lance was still laughing. “High praise. Somehow I don’t believe you.”

“Try it,” Keith gestured to the bowl.

“No way, I’ll eat the disaster when it’s cooked.”

“You’ve got to test your food! This is why you have disasters, just taste it.” Keith leaned over and plucked the spoon from Lance’s hand, scooping up a good-sized spoonful and holding it up to Lance’s lips.  

“I’m not eating that,” said Lance, folding his arms over his chest and sucking his lips in.

“Come on,” Keith teased, “don’t be a coward.”

“There’s nothing cowardly about not eating cake batter!”

“Galra up Lance. Eat your creation.”

Lance shook his head, doing his best not to smile around his sucked in lips.

Without warning, Keith darted forward and tickled Lance’s ribs. Lance gasped and folded himself over Keith’s hand as he jerked away. In his moment of weakness, Keith pushed the spoonful of ‘batter’ into his mouth. Lance tried to complain but Keith held the spoon there until he finally acquiesced.

If Lance was being honest, it was terrible. It was mushy and bitter and somehow sucked all the moisture out of his mouth. Without thinking it through, Lance lied. “I don’t think we’re winning any awards, but it’s not the worst thing I’ve ever made.”

Keith grinned and suddenly all the awful cake batter in the world was worth it. “I think this is a bonding moment.”

With a complete 180 Lance realised his mistake. Nope, no, not happening, this was not cute or romantic. This was terrible. This was Keith feeding him terrible batter for a cake that was never going to work and there was nothing sweet about this at all. He should’ve told the truth, ended this whole date and gone back to the safety of his room.

 _Oh Quiznak_ , Lance thought, _get me out of here_.

The kitchen door slid open. Lance looked up to find Shiro taking half a step inside before he stopped short at the sight of them.

“Sorry, I’m still getting my bearings around the castle and Pidge said I could find food here. I didn’t realize anyone was in here.” Shiro jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I can just, go.”

“Can you bake?” Lance blurted out. His ‘unromantic cooking’ plan was a disaster and even the stars knew Lance needed a buffer here against unfair smiles and tickling.

Shiro just stared, still frozen halfway in the kitchen and halfway out the hall.

“See, we were making a cake but we kind of ruined everything and I don’t know how because I followed the recipe _perfectly_. Keith must’ve messed it up.” Lance waved off Keith’s angry ‘hey’ and kept marching on. “So, if you know how to bake, maybe you could help us fix it before we put it in the oven and seal its fate forever? Because right now this cake is an abomination that should not be brought to fruition by mortal hands.”

“Wow, way to sugar coat it Lance.” Keith snapped.

Lance rolled his eyes. “Even sugar coating it won’t save that catastrophe.”

“You agreed that it tasted OK just three ticks ago!”

“To spare your feelings!”

“Alright, knock it off you two,” Shiro said as he marched into the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves as he went. “Let’s see what you’ve done.”

What followed was a whirlwind of instructions and ingredients that Lance couldn’t memorize if he’d tried. He and Keith followed each of Shiro’s carefully detailed instruction without hesitation. Somehow, by the grace of the stars or just Shiro’s skill in the kitchen, the dough-cake-mistake slowly melted out into a delicious, sweet, creamy batter. Lance could’ve happily sat himself down with a spoon and ate the whole lot raw but both Keith and Shiro insisted that they see this through.

With the cake in the oven, Lance had nothing to distract himself from the two stupidly beautiful men he was alone with. He sat up on the island in the middle of the room with Keith and Shiro sitting on the counters either side of the oven opposite him. Keith was kicking his legs out, his heels bumped against the cupboard every now and again in odd staccato beats.

Lance was the first to break the easy silence that had fallen around them. “You work with Keith right?”

Shiro paused for a moment then let out an amused snort that had Keith reaching across the oven to smack his shoulder. “Work is one word for it. It’s certainly a mission keeping him on task.”

“Tasks are boring,” said Keith, folding his arms behind his head and slouching back until he hit the wall.

“What do you do?” Lance bounced a little on the counter.

“It’s tough to explain all of what we do but, in short, we’re exploring this galaxy, and the ones around it, with a team of scientists of varying disciplines to discover new planets, new cultures, new technology, to further technological, magical and cultural advancements of the Empire. Also, we visit places the Galra have encountered before, to gain a better understanding of those planets,” Shiro explained. “It’s a lot of travelling between places to check on monitoring systems, then guarding the clever people while they do the hard work.”

Lance stared at Shiro, wide-eyed and a smiling slowly tugging the corners of his lips impossibly high. “That’s _incredible_!” He exclaimed finally. “I’d love to do something like that!”

“Doesn’t Altea have a similar program? I thought the Galra and the Alteans implemented them around the same time?” Keith asked.

“We do, but it’s not like I’m allowed to go with them. I’m the Prince.” Usually that was enough to garner understanding nods and a shift in conversation, but neither Keith nor Shiro seemed to understand the magnitude of that statement. “Altean heirs must remain on planet as much as possible, to learn about and honour our culture and protect our home from threats.”

“But you’re allowed to come to an Engagement Ball?” Keith propped his head up to see Lance better, waiting for his answer.

“It’s not like we’re cloistered,” Lance squirmed uncomfortably. “Altea prides itself on our foreign relationships, events like this are vital for fostering a long-lasting connection. Plus, this will go on for a week at most. How long are you away from home on your expeditions?” Keith conceded that point with his silence and Lance nodded to himself. “Exactly.”

“What do you do on Altea?” Shiro asked. “How do you fill your time, not cooking?”

“Oh no, I cook all the time. When he can spare the time, my friend Hunk helps me, that’s the only time my baking or cooking goes well. On my own, well, you get cake dough.”

“Isn’t practise supposed to make perfect?”

Lance would’ve been offended if it wasn’t so clear that Shiro was teasing him. “I have a bad habit of making the same mistakes over and over again and expecting the results to change.”

 “Where I’m from we call that a symptom of insanity.”

“Where I’m from we call it perseverance.”

“I suppose you could call it that,” Shiro chuckled. Stars, that sound did something to Lance. Here he was thinking that Shiro would be this brilliant buffer between him and Keith and instead it’s like his heart took it upon itself to split itself in two to pine after the both of them. It was ridiculous.

To avoid thinking anymore about feelings and bonding moments and deep baritone laughter, Lance plunged into a lengthy explanation of the duties of an Altean prince that would’ve made his history professor proud.

The smell of freshly baked goods swelled around them as he regaled them with tales of tending the juniberry fields, extensive Court sessions, lessons in countless languages, hours of meditation and the endless lessons and training and pursuit of perfection in mind, body and spirit. For Alteans, a monarch was a bastion of their culture after all, Lance had to be something people were proud to look upon. He was surprised by the rapt expression on their faces as he spoke, like they were truly interested in the ins and outs of a proper meditation stance.

Keith and Shiro startled when the timer on the oven buzzed happily.

Shiro looked at his watch and leapt off the counter. “Is that really the time? Bloody hell I was supposed to meet with Thace.”

Keith leaned over. His fur bristled when he saw the clock face. “Quiznak, I’m late for the next suitor.”

“Sorry,” Lance wanted to apologise further but Shiro wasn’t having any of it.

“It’s our fault.” Shiro’s tone left no room for argument. “We knew we had other obligations, we allowed ourselves to get distracted.”

Lance may not have had an argument, but he still held the beautifully baked cake out towards them. “At least take them the cake. No one can stay mad at you if you bring cake.”

They tried to protest but Lance was out the door and dashing off telling them they had to take it or it’d be wasted and that would be such a terrible shame.

He ran all the way to Hunk’s room where he collapsed face down on the couch and groaned.

“Buddy.” Lance’s voice was muffled by the cushions but he was sure Hunk could still hear him. “I love you, but your plan sucked.”

* * *

 

Keith and Shiro watched as Lance waved and ran off down the hallway. Keith marvelled at how full of energy one person could be and how he could give so much of it and never seem to run dry. 

“You know, I want to hate him because he’s trying to marry you,” said Shiro as he wrapped an arm round Keith’s shoulders and pressed a kiss to the back of his ear. “But it’s impossible. He’s sweeter than cotton candy.”

“I have no idea what that is,” said Keith, “but I’m sure you’re right."

* * *

 

Lance breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his name-card sat next to Shiro’s. He didn’t have the energy to sit through this dinner with a stranger. Shiro was dangerously handsome, but he was also easy to talk to, and he was kind and intelligent and a superb dancer. Not that dinner required dancing. His feet still hadn’t recovered from the night before.

Keith was already sitting in his spot. It wasn’t too much further down the table, just far enough that talking to him would involve yelling over Shiro and two other suitors. The way these things usually went, someone was watching to see who Keith had spent the most time with, then they’d set them a fair distance away from Keith and those who’d had less of his attention got placed nearby, to keep things ‘fair’. Even though this was supposed to be Keith making a choice, it was far more important to the older generations that things were done by the book. Stars forbid someone’s little darling didn’t get the chance to laugh at Keith’s every word and drape themselves over him. Lance rolled his eyes. The concept of fair had no place at a political engagement ball. Nothing’s fair in love and war.

At least he was by Shiro though. Keith may suffer through this dinner, but Lance wasn’t going to.  

“We match!” Lance laughed, holding out his arms so the sheer blue material attached to his rings swung round his body in graceful arc. Shiro didn’t have a cape quite like Lance’s, but he was wearing yards of artfully draping fabric that fell in crisp, sharp lines that could be similar if you squinted. Honestly, Lance had never seen anyone wear anything like what Shiro was wearing. It almost looked like Shiro had rolled out of bed and carried his blanket with him.

“Very nearly, your Highness.” Shiro smiled fondly. Lance’s anxieties were eased by that smile, Shiro hadn’t been bored out of his mind by Lance’s rambling earlier, or put off by Lance’s abrupt exit.

“If you go round calling all of us ‘your highness’ this will be a very confusing dinner,” said Lance. “Plus, we baked a cake together. That kind of bonding brings you to first name basis for sure. Lance is fine.”

“It was delicious by the way.”

“All thanks to you!”

“I’m sure your creation would’ve been, something.”

“Something nightmares are made of.”

Whatever Shiro was going to respond with was lost when a pale purple Galra opposite them drew him into their conversation.

Unable to follow their conversation, Lance let his eyes wander around the room. He saw a few familiar faces from other events like this. At least he wasn’t the only veteran. The room they were in was beautiful. Galrans clearly had a thing for stained glass windows. He’d thought the ballroom was a work of art, but it had nothing on this. The entire length of the hall was decorated with huge round windows with kaleidoscopic patterns and colours within them. Around each window was a hyper-realistic painting of the night sky, complete with golden nebulas that sparkled in the light from the chandeliers above them.

“Keith had his ship painted with the same paintings,” said Shiro, snapping Lance out of his reverie.

“I didn’t pick him for an art collector.”

“I hadn’t either. But Keith adores art. He could fill a gallery with all the pieces he’s commissioned around the galaxies. Those ones have always been his favourite though. Those and a landscape he commissioned from my home.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask, where are you from?” Lance asked then immediately backtracked with a nervous laugh. “If that’s not rude or anything! I don’t mean to pry it’s just, I’ve never seen anyone who looks so…plain? Not that you’re unsightly! It’s just except for the arm, which I can see is Galra, you just, you look…”

Shiro chuckled gently. “Human. I look human. I come from Earth, I’m told it’s a young planet by your standards and I am one of very few humans to travel this far away from home.”

Lance perked up, twisting in his chair and propped his elbow on the table in front of him. If his mother could see him she’d be horrified by his lack of etiquette. “Tell me about it.”

“What?”

“This ‘Earth’, tell me about it. I told you all about my boring Princely duties, tell me something exciting. Do you have flowers? What do you eat? Do you have music? What are your oceans like? Why don’t your people travel?” Lance bounced in his seat. The man behind him, some noble or other that Lance had never met, muttered something that Lance was sure was unkind. He ignored it. Disdain meant nothing in the pursuit of knowledge.

Shiro smiled. “I don’t know how different it is to Altea. We have thousands of flowers, nearly all our plants bloom in order to reproduce. On Earth there are many different temperate regions and they grow different foods, so what you eat depends on what you can get your hands on. In saying that, the different regions matter less as our technology gets better. We have a holy place called Maccas that every culture on Earth visits when intoxicated.” Shiro tried his best not to laugh at Lance’s innocent, wide-eyed gaze at the wonders of Maccas. He’d save chicken nuggets for another conversation. You can only blow someone’s mind so many times in one conversation.

“So, you have alcohol? Do you drink Nunvil juice?”

Shiro did laugh at that one. “We don’t drink nunvil but we drink all sorts of other things. Those thousands of plants that flower? I think we’ve tested all of them to see if they’ll ferment.”

Lance cocked his head to the side. “You’re a very curious species.”

“Pot calling the kettle black,” Shiro countered without thinking, Lance’s head only tilted further as his eyes widened. “Never mind.” Shiro took a sip of, what he called, Galran space wine. He had no idea what it was actually made from, but it was sweet and bubbly and reminded him of home. He thought back to the questions Lance had asked and continued on. “We have lots of music on Earth. I learned to play the saxophone in high school, it’s a brass instrument that…well I don’t know how you describe the sound it makes. I want to compare it to bagpipes but, be grateful you don’t know what those sound like either. Our oceans cover 70 percent of Earth, coincidentally most humans are made up of 70 percent water. They’re salty, and immensely deep. We know more about space than we know about the ocean, but we don’t travel far from our galaxy because we know little of space and space travel.” Shiro paused. “Was that all your questions?”

Lance nodded. Mind whirring with thoughts of deep blue oceans and instruments whose music he couldn’t even imagine. It was all so exotic. Every other new world he’d learned of, there had been endless books to read about them. But, Altea had never encountered ‘Earth’ before. This was all new territory and Shiro was a fascinating and patient guide.

Shiro went on to explain the nuances of Earthen culture, talking through the profound significance of powerful human rituals such as Edward Forty Hands, the terrifying Circle of Death and strange cards that were opposed to humanity. Lance barely noticed the wait for their meal he was so caught up in Shiro’s stories. He was ready to go to his ship right then and there and wormhole his way to the Milky Way just to get one glimpse.

Lance poked at the meal before him with a trepid fascination. “Are you sure that this is safe?”

“Huh?” Shiro asked through his mouthful, cheeks stuffed full like a chipmunk and eyebrows raised high. Lance stifled a giggle behind his hand.

“Alteans eat very little meat,” he explained. “There are only dozen or so animals that are small enough to safely hunt and of those only a handful are non-toxic. I have never seen meat so, pink.”

Shiro swallowed. “I’m sure you could ask for another option.”

He was halfway to gesturing for a server when Lance clutched at his arm and pulled it back down.

“No, don’t’ make a fuss.” Lance was painfully aware of the eyes on them. He liked being the centre of attention when he was in control of the spectacle, not like this, not for being too nervous to eat the food that everyone else was eating without a problem.

Why was food so against him today? He’d fought Keith about not eating cake batter and now he was fighting Shiro about meat and how could food betray him like this? Food was supposed to be comforting, not a source of anxiety. Oh stars, he sounded like Hunk.

With Shiro watching him, Lance took a small bite of the meat. Then a bigger bite. Then if his mother was horrified by an elbow on the table she’d drop into a dead faint at the sight of him devouring the meal before him. It rendered him speechless from the first bite, it was _that_ good.

It should’ve been impossible to top the first course, somehow though, the chefs managed it. The second course was sweet and spicy and so incredibly succulent. The third course was a lighter salad with vegetables so crisp and flavourful Lance was convinced he had fallen asleep before dinner and this was all an elaborate dream. Then the final course, the dessert, the most important course of any meal in Lance’s not so humble opinion, oh stars the dessert.

Nothing had ever tasted so good. Those berries from breakfast made an appearance. They were cooked into a bright purple sauce and drizzled over a kind of cake that was warm, sweet and creamy. It had the consistency of the goo on his ship but tasted infinitely better.

Lance moaned as he finished off his plate. “That was sinful.”

“Not as good as the cake we made,” Shiro concluded, pushing his own plate away and resting his arm on the table as he twisted to face Lance.

“I’d give my firstborn to the chef,” Lance stared at the plate and wondered if it was worth the stares to lick the rest of the sauce off the plate. Probably, but a server was there taking his plate away before Lance had made up his mind.

Around them people rose and mingled in clusters throughout the room. With the meal done, there was no need to stay in their assigned spaces, but Shiro was making no move to leave so Lance stayed seated too.

“You seem more at ease than you did last night.” Shiro observed. 

“I’ve been to a few of these,” Lance admitted. “The first night is always the worst. You never know what the Prince is going to be like, or what they’ll expect of you.”

“I guess no one’s caught your fancy before?”

Lance was silent. He should’ve seen that question coming. He felt Shiro watching him, waiting so patiently for Lance to answer, but he didn’t know what to say without lying or looking pathetic. He didn’t want to lie. Shiro was so kind and patient with Lance, he didn’t want to return that kindness with dishonesty. But the last thing he wanted was Shiro’s pity. He was a Prince, he was a leader of his people, he would not be pitied as some lovestruck child who couldn’t protect his own heart. Even if that’s exactly what he was.

“They have,” Lance started, “but usually the spark burns out before the week is out.”

Not quite a lie. All his diplomacy lessons weren’t for naught. Shiro didn’t have to know it wasn’t him losing interest but the other party.

“And…” In just that one word, Shiro sounded more nervous and unsure of himself than Lance had ever heard him. “How do you feel about Keith?”

Lance bit his lip and stared at his hands. “I don’t know. He feels, different. But there is a huge gap between a firm friend and a good husband. I would never want to play with his heart if I wasn’t sure of my own.”

It was so painfully easy to be honest with Shiro.

That thought doesn’t help. Shiro is Keith’s right hand man. He could just be gathering intel for Keith. It didn’t sound like he was, but Lance didn’t want to take the chance and let any more slip than he already had. 

“Anyway,” Lance clapped his hands together. Shiro startled out of whatever funk he’d got himself in and Lance grabbed the nunvil and refilled Shiro’s glass. “That’s way too heavy for dinner chitchat. Tell me an embarrassing childhood story.”

“What?” Shiro scoffed.

“Come on, I just bared my heart and my love life, now you tell me about how your parents caught you flirting with a training bot when you were 12? Or the time you nearly burned down the head scientist’s lab because you snuck in and thought you could build your own laser gun?”

“Are those from personal experience?”

Lance winked. “You tell me your embarrassing secrets and I’ll let you know.”

So Shiro told Lance about how he and his twin brother (Lance found the idea of twins fascinating) would switch places in school to mess with their teachers and the time he and some friends got arrested overnight for uprooting a bush and throwing it over someone’s fence – which could’ve been fine if it didn’t land in the middle of their table while they were throwing a dinner party.

He also shared his most recent embarrassment; the time he fumbled an introduction to a foreign diplomat so badly that instead of saying ‘thank you for your hospitality’ he managed to say ‘thank you for having great tits’. Lance could sympathise, mispronounce one word in some languages and the whole meaning changed. That wouldn’t have been an easy blunder to come back from.

Late in the night Lance looked around Shiro and caught Keith staring at them. He raised his glass with a grin. He knew his cheeks were flushed, he knew he’d played with his hair too much in his excitement and he probably looked like a wild heathen, but his spirits were high, and Hunk wasn’t here to be the voice of reason.

For one moment, with Shiro at his side and Keith smiling at him like that, Lance could imagine that everything was perfect.

* * *

 

 “So how will you respond?” Shiro asked, tossing his blade in the air and catching the handle as it spun.

Keith looked puzzled.

“You know, when Prince Lance asks for your hand in marriage? How will you respond?”

Keith fell over backwards. “Why on Daibazal and all the nine moons would you think for a tick that Lance is going to ask me to marry him?”

“This is your engagement ball, he is literally only attending this entire charade to woo you.” 

“He’s here because his mother forced him to be, a situation I am all too familiar with.”

“That might be why he came here, but plenty of other suitors fled after the first night. He stays because he’s falling in love with you.”

“He’s in love with criticizing me, the food that we serve, and having his squire eat our palace reserves dry. Do not fear that my gaze will wander to a man who would no sooner love me than a druid would remove their mask.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” Shiro said.

Keith was well adept at telling when Shiro was lying, and he was surprised to find no hint of dishonesty in Shiro’s words. “Then why would you ask such a silly question?”

“It’s no matter,” Shiro rose off the bed and slipped his knife back in its sheath. “If you cannot see what’s in front of you then I’m not going to be able to open your eyes.” He chucked Keith under the chin and pressed a swift kiss to his forehead. “You’re needed in the Training Room my Prince, don’t keep your suitors waiting.”

Keith rolled his eyes and left, all thoughts of Shiro’s strange question already fading as his mind wandered to sparring and strategy.

* * *

 

When they said that all the suitors would have to spar with Keith, Lance had assumed it would be in a training room or simulation. He’d thought they’d be fighting with training staffs and blunted swords and it would all be very civil with an umpire watching their every move and calling the win.

What he wasn’t prepared for, was a gladiator ring.

Bright and early Lance showed up to watch his competition wear Keith down. He realised three very important things.

First was the gladiator ring. Enough benches to seat thousands of Galra curved round a sandy, blood-stained ring. Lance was glad that the seats weren’t full but there was still at least a hundred observers scattered around the stands.

Second thing that Lance realised was Keith’s sword wasn’t blunted. He watched another victim stumble from the ring, clutching the slash on his upper arm as blue blood oozed out between his fingers. Lance gulped.

The third thing took a little longer to figure out, but it was the simplest and scariest of all. No one could beat Keith.

Lance had been learning to fight since the day he took his first step. He had racked up more hours in the training room in the Castle than any other Altean. Except Allura, but Allura was an outlier and would not be counted. Despite all his training, he could admit he wasn’t anywhere near Keith’s skill. Keith was a well-honed explosion of steel and fury.

Before he knew it, it was Lance’s turn to step into the ring. His heart was thudding in his ears but he refused to show fear. Lance scanned the wall of weapons but despite the extensive selection, there was nothing long-range.

Keith slouched near the gateway into the ring. He picked dirt from beneath his claws and watched as Lance weighed a heavy longsword in his hands.

“I feel like this is hardly fair,” said Lance as he put the sword back with a frown. No way he could hold that for more than a few swings. He was strong, but that had to be weighted for cybernetically enhanced Galra.

“If you’re afraid, you can sit out if you wish,” Keith offered.

“You misunderstand me.” Lance’s face split into a grin as he picked a staff from the row of weapons. He spun it between his hands until Keith couldn’t follow it in its own motion blur. “I’m not worried about me.”

Keith scoffed. “Your fancy parlour tricks are hardly intimidating. Haven’t you been watching? No one can even land a hit on me.”

Nevertheless, he guided Lance into the centre of the ring. A few of the spectators cheered for Keith’s victory.

“Yes, but you’ve been fighting for hours,” Lance crouched, bringing the staff to a halt in one hand behind him, his free hand stretched forward as he gestured for Keith to come at him. “I’m fresh to the ring.”

Keith took the bait. He darted forward. His sword carved through the air aiming for Lance’s thigh. Inches away from its target, Lance’s staff came down to block it with such force that Keith felt it right up to his shoulder.

Lance flipped his staff back to a defensive hold. He stayed crouched low, defending his centre of gravity. Keith lashed out again. Lance met his blade with his staff. Keith bore down on him. Lance’s feet shifted back in the sand and Keith allowed himself a wicked grin. Quick as a comet, Lance kicked Keith’s feet out from under him. He skittered back across the sand and stopped, waiting for Keith to make the next move. 

“What was that about no one landing a hit?” Lance smirked.

Keith charged, the crowd roared when he almost landed a hit on Lance’s upper arm. Right when his attack should’ve struck, Lance rolled away with a grace that Keith rarely saw in battle. Keith charged again. His blade sung as it cut through the air between them, skimming over Lance’s chin as he bent himself over backwards to avoid the hit. Putting so much force in the swing had thrown Keith’s balance off. Lance feinted sideways and slashed at Keith’s blade, knocking it from his hand and sending it spinning across the sand. He spun the staff in his hand and swung it to rest at Keith’s neck.

“Yield?” Lance offered.

“You wish,” Keith grinned. He took hold of Lance’s staff and yanked it downwards with all the force he could muster. Keith threw up a handful of sand into Lance’s face, a dirty trick but an effective one. While Lance blinked the grit out of his eyes, Keith dashed for his blade. He only let himself relax when he felt the comfortable weight of it in his hand.

Lance moved like water. Although Keith prided himself on being unpredictable, it was as though Lance could read every move he made. He’d slash out and Lance was there with a block. He’d break away to get room between them and Lance was following with easy strides and that ever-spinning staff.  

For years Keith’s tutors had proudly told him that he fought with his heart. Keith’s fighting style was raw power and aggression. It was fast hits guided by an innate instinct. Lance had none of that. Keith fought with his heart whereas Lance fought with his head. He had an intimidating command of his every motion.

Keith was reminded of their first dance. Lance hadn’t been kidding, Altean fighting was a dance and he had no idea what the steps were going to be. Lance, on the other hand, knew every motion. He had mastered his own body and the more Keith moved the more Lance learned of his. For the first time that day he was put on the defensive, ducking and blocking Lance’s blows as best he could.

Keith slipped under scything blows, the metal whistling past his skin. He deflected blows that locked his shoulders and had him gritting his teeth with the strain. Lance wasn’t water, he was a storm. With all its force and fury.

But even a storm had to let up eventually.

One opening, that’s all he needed. Keith’s gaze was like a hunting eagle. He was never renowned for his patience, but he could wait if it ensured his victory.

There! Keith dove forward. His sword sung through the air. Lance had no time to bring his staff down. He twisted his wrist at the last moment and the flat of his blade hit home between Lance’s ribs with a dull thud. A killing blow.

Lance’s face gave nothing away. For someone who seemed so easy to read, Keith found him impossible to understand. He side-stepped away from the blade and bowed. His staff was relaxed in his hand.

“You don’t have to do that you know,” panted Keith, flipping his own blade and sliding it back into its sheath.

“It’s a sign of respect,” Lance explained as he rose. “I don’t have to, but I’d like to offer you what I can.”

“Oh,” Keith said softly. 

“I thought that’s what this was all about?”            

“I guess? The fight is mostly to see how well we work together, how you can read my movements, how I can see yours. A fight is like a dance but…more. There is no choreography to prepare you, each fight is unique, and if you can react to my blows and defend against them, then there is hope for a future.” Keith cocked his head to the side, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. “Does that make sense?”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense for us to fight a gladiator together?” Lance struggles to regain his breath, his heart hasn’t quite settled in his chest and he tries to tell himself that has more to do with the heat of the battle rather than the beauty of his opponent. Which definitely didn’t distract him before the final blow.

Keith laughed, a sound more magnificent than the greatest Altean symphonies. “Maybe it would, but maybe I’d like to prove that I’m stronger than you sooner rather than later?”

“Well,” Lance said, rubbing at his side where Keith landed his final blow. “I think you managed that.”

In a flash, the play was gone from Keith’s eyes and they flooded with concern. He shifted closer, gnawing his bottom lip between sharp canines. “Did I hit you too hard? I’m…”

“No!” Lance cut him off abruptly. A visible weight rolled off Keith’s shoulders. “My sister hits harder than you.”

“I’ve met your sister, that doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.”

Lance’s cheeks were starting to hurt from grinning. It was ridiculous, he’d _lost_ , but here he was, giddy like he was drunk on victory. The funny thing was, it didn’t feel like a loss at all.

“You fight good,” Keith conceded. He offered his arm to steady Lance as they left the ring. Lance’s palm was sweaty in the crook of his arm. There was little time for any more conversation, with a queue of suitors still waiting for their turn at glory.

“You fight better than you dance.” Lance hung his staff back up on the rack, fingers caressing the metal one last time before his arms folded across his chest. “I think we’d make a good team.”

“Yeah,” Keith smiled, “yeah I think we do.”

* * *

 

There were no more events the night of the sparring. After a day of fighting Keith was allowed an evening to rest in the hot volcanic baths. He was also expected to ‘think on the results of the day’ which Shiro found hilarious. It didn’t sound like there was much to think about, the only person Keith had been able to talk about when he’d stumbled into their room that night was Lance and Lance’s amazing fighting ability and Lance’s pretty blue eyes.

Shiro tried to remind himself not to be jealous.

The next day he crashed Keith and Lance's cooking again. Accidentally mind you. He didn't know for sure that they'd be there. When he wandered down the hall on the off chance he'd find them, he was lured in with bright laughter and another disaster to fix. The day after that they were there again, this time it was something that looked like pancakes with the consistency of concrete and there was no fixing it but he was happy to help them start from scratch. The day after, they waited until Shiro arrived before they even started.

And so the week disappeared in a blur of kitchen disasters and long talks about worlds and cultures and stories.

It was night of the second to last day. After tomorrow, Lance would be going home. Keith would politely announce that while he appreciated his guests kindness, there was none who stole his heart. Everything would go back to normal.

Once Keith fell asleep, Shiro left to wander the castle and clear his head.

He couldn’t blame Keith for having feelings for Lance, Shiro had his own simmering away when Lance shot him that coy smile or told him silly stories about his home.

His plan to get space was derailed by Lance trudging down the hall from the other direction. He froze like a deer in headlights when he saw Shiro. His bright blue cheek markings were glowing in the dark. Shiro could see move of the colour glowing through his shirt and wondered to himself just how far those markings spread.

“Want some company?” Shiro offered. Lance nodded carefully, like if he moved too quickly Shiro would disappear. It was strange. Of the two of them, Lance seemed far more prone to disappearing acts.

They walked down the halls in silence. Shiro accidentally led them to the kitchen where they’d baked the other day. Lance dragged himself onto the island and curled his legs up to his chest. Shiro didn’t know that he could be so, subdued.

There was something in the silence that Shiro didn’t dare disturb. Instead, he busied himself setting water to boil and finding tea. It was one of the few things in space that really tasted like the tea back home. It never failed to calm Shiro down.

He pulled out two cups and snuck glances at Lance while he waited. Lance had propped his elbow on his knee and his cheek was resting in his hand. He looked so small. When Lance walked into a room he was impossible to ignore. Not just because of his height, or his beauty, but because of the energy that radiated from him like a gravitational pull. When he walked in, people stood up and took notice because here was someone who knew what it was to be _alive_ , and everyone wanted a taste of that vitality. Even that first dance, when Shiro had worried about Lance’s well-being, he’d still been impossibly vibrant in his melancholy.

This Lance was a very different creature.

“Can’t sleep?” Shiro asked finally, handing over a mug of tea and lifting himself onto the island beside him.

“Sometimes my mind is too busy,” Lance admitted, closing his eyes and inhaling the warm scent of freshly brewed tea. “There’s nothing I can do to make it settle.”

Shiro nodded. That was an all too relatable feeling. “On Earth we call that insomnia.”

“Insomnia,” Lance rolled the word around his tongue like a fine wine, repeating it a few times to truly taste the sounds. It sounded strange with his Altean accent, the ‘I’s drawn out to their limits. But Shiro liked the playful way he lilted the syllables, shifting the emphasis here and there until he had a feel for the word. “It is a beautiful word, for something that feels like torture.”

“We have a few of those,” said Shiro.

“Why is it that beautiful things so often cause so much pain?”

“I don’t know.” Shiro answered honestly.

Lance took a sip of his tea. His exhale was a shuddery and broken thing. He leaned his head on Shiro’s shoulder and hugged his mug closer to his chest. “This is really good.” He whispered. “Thank you.”

“Any time Lance,” Shiro carded his fingers though Lance’s hair and rested his head on Lance’s. “Any time at all.”

* * *

Lance woke up slowly. It was easy to assume that the night before with Shiro had been a strange dream produced by sleeplessness and stress but, no. There was an empty mug on his nightstand and his bright blue slippers were discarded haphazardly by his bed, like he’d kicked them off while walking moments before collapsing into plush mattress heaven.

Thank the stars he’d managed some sleep in the end - whatever was in that drink Shiro had given him had him out like a light – because today he was expected to come up with another date idea.

Quiznak.

There was no light coming through his windows. It wasn’t surprising that he hadn’t managed his typical sleep in. Shiro’s drink was an aid, not a miracle cure.

He crawled from his bed over to the door to Hunk’s room and pressed his ear against the metal, straining his ears to listen for sounds of life. When he didn’t hear Hunk’s tell-tale snoring, he slid the door open and made his way in.

Hunk and Allura were already up. Hunk was bleary-eyed and barely there. He didn’t acknowledge Lance’s entrance at all, just stared longingly at his bed. Allura on the other hand had always been a morning person, and an afternoon person, and an evening person. Allura woke up perfect and to bed the same way, Lance had always been a little jealous of that.

“You didn’t sleep,” Allura said by way of greeting.

Lance grimaced. He hadn’t looked in a mirror that morning and he wasn’t sure what she’d seen that tipped her off. “I got a couple hours in.”

“You should’ve woken me.”

“My thoughts don’t need to trouble us both.”

“I could’ve helped,” Allura wiggled her fingers and blue light trailed after them. Lance didn’t want to tell her that he hated the medicated sleep even more than the sleeplessness. It never felt restful. He woke up from it agitated and on edge. But Allura was always so keen to help where she could, and to practise her magic. He didn’t want to put her off when she was only just coming to terms with what she could do.

“Next time,” Lance promised, not quite meaning it.

“So…do you know what you’re going to do for your last date?”

“Neat subject change.”

Allura gave him a look.

“No.” Lance sighed.

“Why not cook again?” Hunk’s voice was still heavy with sleep as he joined the conversation.

“Why not?” Lance’s chin hit his chest as he slouched in his seat. “It doesn’t matter what we do, Keith’s too…” Lance struggled for the right word. “…charming.”

Allura slammed the table with so much force the ground beneath them shook. “You are not giving up!”

Lance didn’t even flinch. His shoulders gave the barest hint of a shrug. “Why do you care? Just the other day you and Hunk were all about ‘sparks’ and pushing me to romance him?”

“But this isn’t you romancing anyone,” Allura scowled. “This is just you resigning yourself to heartbreak. If you want to put your entire heart in this, I’ll come up with the most romantic date possible. I’d go to Altea and back to make Keith see that you are the greatest man he will ever have the honour of meeting. But until that happens, I’m still on mission sabotage.”

Lance was thrown, yet oddly touched. “Aw sister dear, I didn’t know you cared.”

“I’m here aren’t I? You’re my brother you idiotic hellion,” Allura ruffled Lance’s hair affectionately. “I care.” 

“If you don’t want to be pulled into a group hug in point three ticks then I’d cut the mushy stuff,” said Hunk. “It’s too early in the morning for sibling bonding.”

Lance snorted. “A group hug isn’t exactly a threat buddy.”

“Save the hugging for when this is a success and we’re on board the ship home,” said Allura. “For now, I’ve got a plan.”

“Why do I feel like I’m not going to like this?” Lance groaned.

“Because you probably won’t, but hopefully Keith won’t either. I was exploring the palace yesterday while you were off wooing your men.” Allura steamrolled over Lance’s protests. “I found these beautiful gardens outside, and when I talked to some of the staff out there, they said they would always be grateful for a helping hand if it was offered.”

“Cooking and gardening,” Lance quirked a brow at Allura. “Are you sure you’re not trying to get us used to domestic life?”

“The hard work will be a perfect excuse not to talk, the distance between the two of you will prevent any awkward touching, Shiro won't know where to find you. It’s brilliant.”

Lance chewed his lip as he thought it over. He had to concede it was a good idea. Then again, he’d thought the cooking was fool-proof too. It was better than nothing, it would either work or it wouldn’t and he didn’t have anything better except faking sick to avoid Keith entirely. His mind was running itself in ragged circles and he simply didn’t have the brain power to go over it anymore than he had. He’d trust Allura, she’d never intentional put him in harm’s way.

“Also the dirt,” Lance said, “it’ll dry out my hands like anything, there’s no way he’d want to come anywhere near dry scaly dirt hands.”

“Exactly,” Allura nodded once. “It’ll be the worst date ever.”

* * *

 

Keith had only just finished his breakfast when the page brought him a request to meet Prince Lance in the gardens. He was glad he’d dressed for the day already, and that Shiro hadn’t managed to coerce him into that long and lazy morning he’d longed for so badly. He smiled fondly when he thought of Shiro, still curled up safe and sleepy and peaceful in his bed. He smiled even wider when he saw Lance waiting for him in the doorway.

Lance was glorious in the early in the light. Keith hadn’t seen him dressed so simply since he’d arrived. He wore a simple long-sleeved shirt and tight-fitting pants that emphasised his height. Keith still felt underdressed beside him. He’d slept in his clothes and he couldn’t help but feel that it showed.

“Good to see you’re able to walk after yesterday's mountain hike with Hector,” Lance greeted Keith with an easy smile and playful banter.

Keith resisted the urge to reach up and kiss his cheek. It’d be too easy, and he was fairly sure the reaction would be worth it, but he hadn’t talked to Shiro yet about the plans spinning in his head and he couldn’t do anything that might hurt him until they’d cleared the air. He’d been so distant last night, better this morning, yet still not quite himself.

“The springs from Mt Vezalia work miracles on aching muscles,” said Keith.

They fell into step, walking down the winding garden paths. Keith didn’t come out here often enough, too busy shut in the training room, or the throne room or back on his ship. When he did though, he adored it. He wondered how Lance had known this was his favourite place in all the Palace grounds.

The sky spread out above them in streaks of blue and gold. The stars were fading, but a few still shone through the early morning sunlight.

Around them the silver leaves of the trees reflected the light back and cast strange halos of light. Calling the space a ‘garden’ implied more structure and formality than there was. It was more of a forest in its wildness. The only real difference was the sparsity of trees. They were planted strategically to provide protection from the harsh winds and bitter frosts, while leaving plenty of light for the bountiful shrub layer to grow vigorously. Keith had always enjoyed the structured chaos. When he was a young cub he would get lost for hours exploring every inch of the wild world right outside his backdoor.

“That’s a relief,” said Lance, it took Keith a moment to remember what he was talking about. “If you were still sore it would’ve made gardening pretty painful.”

“Gardening?” Keith asked.

“Yup,” Lance popped the ‘p’, swinging the hands he had clasped behind his back. “I figure as Princes, we have a duty to give back to those who provide for us. And what better way to do that than manual labour?”

Keith should’ve expected something special from Lance, but he was still caught by surprise. He’d thought they’d just be wandering the gardens and talking about nothing in particular.

This was so much better.

His ears perked right up without his say so and he lifted his hands to try smooth them back down before Lance noticed. He’d been enjoying the suitors more than he’d expected, but he didn’t enjoy any of their dates quite as much as Lance’s. He wouldn't miss any of them as much as Lance either.

“Sounds perfect,” purred Keith. 

Lance stumbled slightly and Keith reached out to help him but he was upright and stable before Keith could touch. Keith scanned the ground for what he might’ve tripped on but couldn’t see anything.

“Good,” Lance said too quickly, smoothing down the front of his shirt and nodding. “That’s good. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to, you know, get your hands dirty. Or your paws? Nope hands, definitely hands. You have thumbs! That makes them hands right? I’m not sure how exactly you define a hand but I guess if you were going to, then going by thumbs would be a good choice.”

“You’re chatty in the morning,” Keith laughed. “And I call them hands.”

“Cool, cool, glad I didn’t offend talking about hands.”

“It does seem like an innocuous topic.”

“Innocuous,” Lance rolled the word around his tongue. “It’s a good word isn’t it?”

Keith wasn’t sure how to keep up with the conversation changes, and he found himself glad when one of the gardeners greeted Lance with an enthusiastic wave and pressed pruning shears into their hands. They were given instructions to only cut back the plants that were getting invasive and not to uproot anything. Surprisingly enough the gardeners didn’t have complete faith that the two princes weren’t going to kill something vital to the system.

Lance is full of questions as they work. Asking about what plants are, what they do, why the space is planted like it is and Keith is happy to answer. It’s nice to see someone else appreciate the garden the way he does.

They work well together, a steady stream of chatter between them as Keith counters Lance’s questions with his own about Altea.

“When did you learn all this?” Lance asked.

“I didn’t jump onto a ship and leave home as a cub,” Keith scowled. “I did grow up here, and I did get rigorous lessons just like you.”

“We should compare notes.” Lance started pulling at a vine that was suffocating the nearby Elderwood tree. “What was your childhood like?”

It was silly, but Keith struggled to answer. His thoughts about his childhood were a jumbled mess that he steadfastly avoided untangling. As the silence dragged on between them, Lance fidgeted uncomfortable. His hands worked on the vines faster and Keith heard his foot tapping in the grass. It wasn’t impatience. Keith knew enough of Lance to be sure of that.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” Lance apologised sincerely. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to share.”

“I know that,” Keith’s voice came out sharper than he intended. He let his shears hang limp in his hands, giving the full attention to his words. “It’s stupid, I had a good childhood. It’s not like my mum was abusive or missing, and my dad was always ready to teach me whatever I wanted to learn and he was open and free with his affection. It’s just…”

“It’s not stupid,” Lance shook his head. “I think I get what you’re saying. My parents have always been there, but they’ve also been monarchs first and parents second.”

“Exactly! They were there but, they couldn’t say certain things around me and they expected me to be a Prince long before anyone else my age was supposed to pick up their profession.”

“I was so confused for so long about why I was allowed to hug mum sometimes but not others.”

“There was a conflict when I was young, and when mum and dad came back I didn’t believe they were my parents. I was convinced that my nanny was my mum.” Keith didn’t usually tell anyone that, but it was so good to talk to someone who got it and who didn’t spout arguments about how much worse others had it. Keith was aware now that he had an incredible position of privilege, but that hadn’t mattered when he was a child and he couldn’t remember his mum’s face.

“Ouch.” Lance winced. “Allura usually looked after me when my parents went away. Even if my parents felt like strangers, I always had her.”

“You’re lucky.”

“I try to remember that.”

Keith picked up his shears and got back to work. “Nowadays, I just wish she’d listen to me more.”

Lance swore in a long exhale. “Don’t I know the feeling.”

They worked side by side in silence. Keith felt as though a weight he hadn’t been aware of had lifted, if only a fraction. When he was young his parents had taught him early on how to bottle up his emotions. They’d told him with stern expressions that he couldn’t be an open book if he wanted to be a good King. So, he’d built walls around himself and built a good monarch around those.

Shiro had shown him that it could be nice to open up more. Keith hadn’t braved talking like this with anyone but Shiro. It felt so good to get these things off his chest, and to be met with understanding and empathy. If he could be giving Lance the same relief too, well, he was glad his walls weren’t built as high as they used to be.

“Hey, um, Keith.” Lance’s voice wobbled.

Keith looked at him in concern. “What?”

Lance slowly lifted his hands. Keith’s throat dried. Where the skin was usually a rich bronze, it was now stained with deep purples and mottled greens.

“What did you do?” Keith demanded, dropping his shears and storming over to Lance. Lance flinched away from his advance. Keith reached out anyway. He took his hands as gently as he could, fingers barely touching skin as he guided Lance’s hands around. They’re covered in bruises, and between the dark skin is a violent redness that screams of infection. How could this have happened so quickly?

Still cradling Lance’s hands, Keith calls for help and is relieved when he hears footsteps approaching fast.

Keith studies Lance’s hands and watches in horror as the bruising grows even though there’s nothing touching his skin. He looks up to offer Lance comfort and notices that his face is flushed. Keith presses the back of his hand to his forehead but he doesn’t feel feverish, that’s a relief at least.

“How do you feel?” Keith asked.

“Woozy.”

The gardener from earlier skidded to a halt beside them. They took one look at Lance’s hands and gasped. “Eternal apologies your Highness. I should’ve realised, the Dajint berry bush has hollow hairs along its leaves that inject a toxic chemical that causes, well, this. The hairs cannot pierce Galran fur or skin, I didn’t think…apologies, eternal apologies.”

“Will he be OK?” Keith asked.

They nodded rapidly. “It is not life threatening in any way, but it is severely painful. The waters of Mt Vezalia should cease his pain.”

“Hear that Lance?” Keith’s fingers brushed along Lance’s cheek. “You’ll be OK.”

He gave his thanks to the gardener and promised them that they wouldn’t be punished. Lance was unsteady on his feet as they walked back to the palace.

“Oh stars it burns.” Lance wasn’t crying, but his eyes were red-lined and he was shaking badly. He gritted his teeth tighter and flexed his hands wider. Keith was glad he wasn’t clenching them, that would only make it worse.

“Come on,” Keith wrapped an arm round Lance’s waist, his other hovered below Lance’s outstretched hands. “Once we get to the palace it’ll be OK, the pain will be gone I promise. I’m sorry Lance. But it’ll be OK soon, you’ll be OK.”

Keith kept up a steady stream of comforting words, half of them nonsense, as they walked back. Lance didn’t respond. He whimpered every now and again and Keith’s heart clenched in response. The morning had been going so well.

“What happened?” Shiro asked, his voice wasn’t panicked but it was something close to. Keith hadn’t heard him coming, but he was grateful when he came round Lance’s other side and took some of his weight.

“Lance wanted us to go gardening. There was a toxic plant, it’s causing him pain.”

Shiro cursed. “What do we do?”

“Get him to the healing pools.” Keith looked down and was horrified to see that the bruises had reached past Lance’s elbows. “And quickly, it’s spreading.”

Shiro cursed again and started walking faster. Lance fell silent between them. Keith kept reminding himself that it wasn’t life threatening, that it was just pain that silenced Lance. It didn’t do much to ease his frazzled nerves.

“Was it a good date before that?” Shiro asked, there was something unreadable in his tone.

“Yes,” Keith answered honestly.

“Good,” said Shiro. “That’s good.”

“We should probably talk about this when Lance isn’t crying.”

“Will we?”

“Definitely.”

People in the halls moved quickly for them to pass. Keith saw his mother briefly, her face twisted in concern at the sight of Lance.

He clutched Lance’s waist tighter and marched forward. It was just a little plant toxin, he would be fine.

It took longer than Keith ever remembered it taking to get to the pools. Once there, they collapsed on the stone bench. Lance was barely coherent. Shiro gently guided his hands into the water, whispering apologies when Lance whined at the contact.

Keith continued to rub soothing circles on Lance’s back while Shiro told him how strong he was being, how it would all be over soon, how he’d be able to rest after this and he’d make him tea and there had to be some left-over cake somewhere and he could have it if he could just sit up for a few dobashes longer.

Finally, Lance’s breathing eased out as the spring’s water worked its magic on his hands. Keith’s heart steadied in his chest. 

“Sorry,” Lance rasped.

“Why on Daibazaal are you apologising?” Keith was incredulous.

“Stupid mistake. Ruined the date.”

Keith and Shiro shared a look over Lance’s head. Was he serious? Keith didn’t even have to ask, he knew the answer was a resounding ‘yes’.

“And I dragged Shiro into it.” Lance went on. “I was stupid. Shouldn’t have done that.”

“You weren’t stupid Lance,” Shiro admonished.

“No one told you there were toxic plants in the garden,” added Keith. “You couldn’t have known.”

“Could’ve done something different.”

“Stop right there.” Shiro tightened his hold on Lance’s waist.

Keith lowered his head onto Lance’s shoulder. “This wasn’t your fault. You’re not stupid. You’re sweet and you wanted to do a good thing.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” Lance whispered.

“Lance!” Allura tore into the room with the force of an ion canon. Keith and Shiro shifted away from Lance to give her space. She collapsed onto the bench beside him, arms coming round his shoulders and face falling into the crook of his neck. “They didn’t tell me what was happening, they just said you were hurt, I’m sorry Lance. I’m so, so sorry.”

There was so much more that Keith wanted to say, but there was no room for them between Lance and Allura. Their conversation shifted into rapid fire Altean that they didn’t have a hope in following.

They sat together further down the bench, watching as Lance slowly came back to himself and the bruises receded from his skin.

Allura looked surprised when she found them still there. Her eyes swam with worry and gratitude. “Thank you for looking after my brother.”

“He’d have done the same for me,” said Keith, swallowing down the lump that formed in his throat. “I’ll always be there whenever he needs me.”

* * *

 

Lance was tucked up in bed, surrounded by soft pillows and Hunk and Allura. They’d all piled on and napped the morning away after Keith had deemed Lance’s hands healed. He’d wanted to stay but he had other suitors and Lance wouldn’t let him ruin his week over nothing. Lance had already ruined the morning. Which, was the plan.

Until now.

The worst thing was that Lance’s feelings didn’t even sneak up on him. He saw this coming from the start. He thought he was making choices to jump out the way of an oncoming ship, but it turned out that every choice he made brought him right back to where he’d started.

He wondered about what he wanted and found that he didn’t know anymore. He still didn’t want another broken heart, and he didn’t want to hurt Keith either. Or Shiro, who Lance wanted to call a friend (or more, a treacherous part of his heart whispered). He supposed he could give himself that, feelings for Shiro did sneak up on him. Lance wondered how much worse it would be to go home with his heartbroken twice over instead of just the once. At least his mother would see his devastation and that would be the end of all this madness.

But that’s not what he really wanted. He knew that much.

What Lance wanted was murky and unclear. He should’ve stayed away, but he didn’t want that. He was so glad that he had met Keith and Shiro, so grateful for their kindness, their humour, their patience and all that their company encompassed.

He wanted more.

Allura stirred beside him and Lance sucked his lips in to keep from crying. He could be bigger than this. He was a Prince, a bastion of Altean culture and he would not cry over a heart not yet broken.

“It feels so real.” Lance confessed.

“Have you considered that they could feel the same way?” Allura asked. Lance noticed that she said ‘they’ and was glad that he didn’t have to explain that little complication. 

“Have I considered it?” Lance made an aborted half-laugh sound. “It’s all I can think about. My mind is a maelstrom of moments with the pair of them to a backing track of ‘don’t fall in love, don’t fall in love, don’t fall in love’. I try to convince myself that I feel nothing when I am overwhelmed with all that I feel.”

“When has the heart ever been ruled by the mind?”

“I was hoping to defy tradition.”

“You still might. There hasn’t been an Altean monarch with more than one partner for several centuries. Or at least, one who was open about their partners.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “You’re not helping.”

“I don’t know what to say, Lance. Except, you hurt your hands, in a way that left no scars and didn’t risk your life, and they sat by your side like mother sat by father’s when he was stabbed through the chest with a poisoned blade. They care about you, deeply, and it pained them to see you hurt. They feared for your safety beyond rationality and duty. That means something, especially to them, even if it’s not marriage. You have to take comfort in that.”

“Allura’s right. And I hate to be the voice of reason.” Hunk joined in the conversation, shifting up the bed to sit back against the headboard. “But, would they be OK with you dating both of them? What if one of them feels like they’re just your mistress on the side?”

“They’re friends,” added Lance, “close friends. I can’t risk ruining their friendship just because I can’t choose between them. That’s not how relationships like this work.”

“You’ll get nowhere speculating here,” said Allura, “go find them, drag Keith away from his suitors and Shiro away from…whatever it is he’s doing and sort this out.”

“What do I even say? ‘I’ve got feelings for both of you, please date me, I can probably only marry Keith though so I hope you’re OK with that Shiro I swear I’d love you just as much because that’s definitely something I can promise after knowing you for three and a half days’.”

Lance looked between Hunk and Allura and found them both nodding like that wasn’t the most ridiculous thing he’d suggested all week.

“Come on,” Lance groaned.

“All you can do is be honest,” said Allura.

“And that’s about as honest as you can get,” added Hunk.

They fell quiet as Lance exhaled heavily. He heaved himself out of the bed with a pained groan and shuffled to the end of the bed. “Let’s get this nightmare over with.”

* * *

“Let me get this straight,” said Shiro from his perch in Keith’s window seat. Keith was lounging on the bed, shirtless, fur all fluffed up and ridiculously beautiful. There were few suitors left actively pursuing him, so his morning of dates was over and he was free to laze about and spend his time with whoever he chose. Shiro was pleased that Keith still chose him. Though, it sounded as though things were changing. Not for the worst, not by any means, just, changing. “You want to invite Lance, into our relationship? So, we’d all be dating each other.”

“Relationships like this are common amongst the Galra,” Keith shrugged. “It is not often people fall in love with just _one_ person in their life, and who says you have to fall out of love with one person to fall in love with another? Love isn’t a finite resource.” Keith didn’t add that it was far less common amongst the monarchy, but that was less relevant. It tended to be because of the bloodlines, but in an all-male triad of different species, Keith didn’t think bloodlines was of anyone’s concern. “If we all love each other, then there’s no rules against such a partnership.”

Shiro gaped at him. “God, I love you.”

“I know,” Keith smiled. He was purring, clearly pleased with how well this conversation was going. He’d been nervous at first, all pinned back ears and cautious words. Shiro had thought the worst, thought that this was finally the end of the best thing in his life, that he was being replaced by a bright-eyed Prince who could offer Keith his whole world. The truth was far better, far, far better.

“Why haven’t you talked about this before?”

Keith shrugged. “There was no one else for me except you.”

Shiro couldn’t resist. He slunk off the window seat and joined Keith on the bed, pressing languid kisses across his cheeks. “You’re marvellous.”

“I also didn’t want to scare you off. From what I’ve heard, humans seem so stuck on their moral monogamy. As though there’s something so incredibly terrible about loving multiple people.” Keith scoffed.

“Not me,” Shiro shrugged, “I’ve entertained the thought a few times in my life, there’s just never been the right people.”

“And you agree that Lance is the right person?”

“Haven’t I made that obvious?”

Keith gnawed on his bottom lip, some of those earlier nerves creeping back. “We’re _engaged_ Shiro, and this would change everything. Are you OK with that?”

Shiro thought it over for a long time and Keith gave him the space to do so. This wasn’t a decision either of them took lightly.

There were endless pros and cons that Shiro could go through. He ignored any that involved what other people would think – that was meaningless if they were happy.  

Pros: if it worked out then they would have a loving and committed relationship between the three of them, with people they enjoy and have fun with and they’d work well together. Shiro couldn’t picture being happier than with Keith and Lance at his sides.

Cons: If it went wrong, he could lose both of them. He didn’t know how he would cope with that. He didn’t know how Keith would cope with that either. He was only just breaking down all the walls he’d built around himself. Shiro had been helping him trust easier, and Lance had an eerie knack for getting around all his barriers. If Keith lost both of them, he might never open up like this again. Shiro didn’t know if he could hurt Keith like that and live with himself.

But was it work the risk?

Shiro thought it over. He loved Keith. He didn’t love Lance, yet. And that ‘yet’ he could say with resounding confidence, which was strange and foolish after less than a week, but there was something about this whole event that swept up his heart and he was sure. Years ago, his soul had found its equal in Keith. Now, he saw the same reflection in Lance. He was so sure that if Lance would give him the chance, he would love him just as fiercely as he loved Keith.

If Lance would let them, they’d travel to Altea. They’d learn all there was to learn about Lance’s world. If Lance would come with them, they’d take him travelling. They’d show him how wide and wonderful the galaxies were, and he’d bring quips and humour and planets would welcome them with open arms because how could you not welcome Lance? If Lance would let them, they’d rewrite their whole relationship so they’d all fit together, not as Keith and Shiro plus Lance, or Keith and Lance plus Shiro or Shiro and Lance plus Keith, but the three of them, one unit, one relationship.

It sounded so _right_ in Shiro’s heart.

“It will change everything,” Shiro said finally. “But I think it’ll change for the better. I’m OK with that, but only if you are.”

Keith thought it over. “Can we make him happy?”

“I know we can.”

“Then I’m more than OK with it.”

* * *

 

Lance had entertained some wild notions in his life. He had believed that he could control water. He’d believed that his parents would pick him has Heir over Allura. Craziest of all he had believed he could build a sentient ship, shaped like a lion and painted in royal blue, who would take him on spectacular adventures through the stars.

Nothing however quite compared with the tentative hope that he’d be able to have both Keith and Shiro.

Every star would have to align in the sky for that to be a possibility and yet here was Lance, hoping beyond hope for the impossible.

He barely made it ten steps before someone was calling his name. Confused and unable to place the voice, Lance turned and found Empress Thisbe gliding towards him. She was taller than him. Her fur was a light lilac. Her eyes were thin and slanted and so beautiful. They were like molten gold. She was wearing full armour, a long black cape flowing behind her light a comet’s trail.

She stopped just before him and smiled, showing all her wicked sharp teeth. Lance felt like prey.

“Hello Prince Lance, it is an honour to meet you.”

Lance bowed deep from the waist. “Empress. The honour is entirely mine.”

“Please, the pleasantries aren’t necessary.”

“Pleasantries? That was just the truth your Majesty.”

Thisbe chuckled behind her hand. “I can see why my son is taken with you.”

Lance ignored the way his heart sung at that. “He is?”

“Of course. My son has always been obvious with his heart, and often careless.”

Lance frowned. He didn’t like the turn the conversation had taken, even if Thisbe’s voice was still light and friendly. “What do you mean?”

“Keith needs someone who understands him, he needs to be with a free and inquisitive spirit. He needs someone strong enough to keep up with him. And Daibazaal needs strong leaders. It needs those who will always make the right decision. Those who are guided by their heads as well as their hearts. Duty must come first.” Thisbe rested her hand on Lance’s shoulder and smiled. She was serene and beautiful, and Lance suddenly felt like a scolded child. “Do you understand?”

“I think I do.”

“Good,” Thisbe nodded sharply. “That’s good. Be careful Lance. I would hate to see you hurt.” 

As fast as she’d emerged, she was gone. The only evidence she’d been at all was the burning pain in Lance’s chest. Lance could read between the lines. Keith’s own mother had just warned him to back off, told him that he was all wrong for Keith and even worse for Daibazaal. 

His half-baked hopes were in tatters around him. Lance knew what Keith’s mother meant to him. Knew that she was the entire reason for this Ball. Knew that if Keith loved Lance then she would give her blessing, and that if she was here warning him off then he had crossed some line that he shouldn’t have. He had proven himself unworthy for the crown, and worse, unworthy for Keith’s heart.

Hope was a cruel thing, Lance realised. Because even with a warning ringing in his ears, Lance picked up those tattered pieces and stitched them back together as best he could. He would not take Thisbe’s dismissal as the end. He’d earned the right to hear his rejection from Keith’s own mouth.

* * *

 

On the Eastern side of the palace, guests and suitors milled about through the maze of twisting vines and old stone. They found their own entertainment between Palace events. Keith wandered through the open-air courtyard passed card and dice games. He was serenaded with drinking songs not yet as bawdy as those from the taverns in the towns, but still more raunchy than the palace halls ever saw in the daylight hours. He smiled to himself and shook his head at their revelry. His already high spirits were lifted higher by the proximity of the simple joy around him.

Keith had hoped that Shiro would say yes to inviting Lance to form a triad, but it felt like such a monumental ask that he could never have blamed him if he’d said no. But he’d said yes! Yes! Keith felt as uncontrollably giddy as when Shiro had agreed to marry him.

Now all he needed to do was find Lance and pray that he said yes too. Let the nine gods smile on him. He’d need all of them - not just Djinkazi, goddess of fortune or Kazador, god of love - to pull this off.

Shiro had decided that splitting up to search for Lance would be the best course of action. He’d taken the kitchens, libraries, gardens, and all the other public spaces that Lance might be found in. Keith had decided to go straight to Lance’s room and those surrounding it.

At the point where the courtyard met the starlit hallways, there were two figures bowed forehead to forehead like the old religious statues that told stories of despair and salvation. One was mostly hidden by the wall; the others’ long white hair was unmistakeable.

Keith would swear up and down and until his fur shone white that he didn’t mean to eavesdrop. He simply didn’t want to interrupt whatever discussion the Altean siblings were having. It seemed important, his own question could wait until their moment passed. And perhaps he could’ve moved on, but Lance was a tricky fellow to hunt down and now he had him in his sights he didn’t want to lose him. 

If he intentionally sat in on a dice game, close enough that he could hear what Lance and Allura were saying if he strained over the din of the gambling and just far enough that he was obscured by the crowd around him, then that was his own business.

“Are you doing OK?” Allura’s voice was sweet and gentle, the first warm breeze that heralded the end of the cold season.

Keith supposed she was asking about Lance’s poor hands. The priestesses of Vezalia promised that there would be no lingering after effects, but whenever Keith closed his eyes he could still see that brutal bruising clambering its way up Lance’s arms.

“I’ll be fine.” It was impossible to miss the melancholy in Lance’s words.

Keith chewed on his bottom lip. Perhaps the water hadn’t healed him? Or perhaps it was something else? That wasn’t pain that was, longing? Maybe Lance was homesick, it’d explain why he sought comfort in his family. Keith had thought Lance was enjoying himself. But maybe Lance was just a better actor than he’d given him credit for.

“If this is too much, I won’t force you to stay. We can go home.”

Keith wondered how difficult it must be to leave home if you were expected to stay on your planet for so much of your life. Even he found himself terribly homesick and he found it easy to travel because there were such exciting sights, far better than what home had to offer. He hoped that Daibazaal offered Lance similar excitement, and it might be presumptuous, but he hoped that he and Shiro were also a little more interesting than the scholarly tomes of Altea.

“Mother would throw a fit if I came home early,” Lance sighed. “Her dramatics aren’t worth one night. I’ll get home soon enough and being there will fix all this nonsense in my head.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Stop your fussing, I’ll be fine. I’ll talk to them, lay it all out as you said. I was just shaken. I miss home, and I feel a fool.”

Allura lifted her head pressed a kiss to Lance’s hairline. She wrapped an arm over his shoulder and twisted him to walk away down the hallway out of sight.

Keith’s ears strained to hear what they were saying as they moved away, to find context for who and what Lance was talking about. But it seemed that was all he would get. He took a deep breath. There was nothing else for it. His hopes didn’t feel dashed by Lance’s strange melancholy. He just felt, warier than before.

Wandering back the way he came through the courtyard, he decided to find Shiro to go over what he’d heard. He had never considered that even if Lance did love them, that might not be enough to take him away from his home. Lance loved Altea, he had made that clear, and if he were an Emperor consort of Daibazaal then he would have to leave it behind. Keith didn’t know if he could ever ask Lance to give up his home on the chance that they could create a new one together.

* * *

 

Lance loved the courtyards in the Grand Palace of Daibazaal. He loved the way that hedges of stone and greenery discombobulated him with mazes that only made sense when looked at from above. He liked that they were a puzzle to figure out.

Wandering them reminded him of his training back home. Here on the Western side of the palace, they were filled with young Galran cubs clashing swords under the patient eyes of wizened Commanders. He listened to the gentle corrections, the curses when blows struck, the boasting, the pandering, all of it reminded him so much of his own youth that he ached to turn back the clock.

He lost the sound of his own footsteps in the chaos, so it was little surprise that the lovers he encountered didn’t hear his approach either.

They didn’t look up when he rounded the corner and invaded their privacy. They were far enough away that his arrival didn’t register in their little bubble. He turned to go, to leave them to their space and find another way to Keith’s rooms, when he registered the rounded ears and the Prince’s armour.

In an instant, the unknown that had plagued Lance slipped away and in its place was a steady feeling of order. This is how it was always meant to go.

Lance knew with an unshakeable sense of truth, that no matter what, no matter how he flirted or danced or charmed, no one would see him the way he wished they would. And that constant, though so painful it set his teeth on edge, was comforting. There was little more painful than loving someone who would never love you, but the consistency was nice. Lance knew how to stitch these wounds. They were like old friends.

Blinding himself had felt so sweet but looking at them now it was obvious. How could he have not seen? There was an ease, a comfort, a serenity in their proximity that came only from intimacy. He had passed it off in his mind as friendship, as years of travel and battle, which was not an unreasonable expectation. But seeing them now, seeing them like this? Just a hand on a waist and a forehead touching another, an obsidian ring on Shiro’s finger that roared their love louder than a siren. 

Thisbe’s warning suddenly made sense. The ball was a cover. There may have been some outcry if Keith had married a commoner from a planet few had even heard of. But if Keith went through the engagement ball, if he went through all the formalities and chose none of the eligible suitors, then he was free to make any choice his heart desired.

No wonder Shiro had taken such an interest in him. No wonder he’d shown up at every date, been right by Lance’s side at every event when he got too close to Keith. He was making himself a barrier.

Oh stars.

Lance’s chest felt like ice, something relentlessly tugged in his belly. Keith was marrying for love. Not for alliance, not for power. He was marrying because he had found someone who loved him and was putting himself through a week of painful scrutiny and courting to be with Shiro, without anyone being able to tear them apart.

Lance couldn’t stand in the way of that.

He must’ve been before that. After all, his feelings had been so clear that Keith’s own _mother_ had seen him making a fool of himself and warned him to step off. He had been a hopeful and lovesick fool. Even though he had tried so hard to be guarded he got swept up in soft smiles and false intuition. Couldn’t he catch a break? Hadn’t he had enough disappointments for a lifetime?

Apparently not.

The stars had not aligned, they’d blown out.

Lance should’ve trusted his scepticism, not his heart. He looked up at Shiro and Keith one last time, savouring the sight of their intimacy, their happiness, their serenity. He wished them all the happiness that the universe could give them.

But he couldn’t stick around to see it.

* * *

 

“What are you doing?” Allura froze in the doorway, watching as Lance carefully folded his suits and pressed them back into his bags. “Did you find Keith and Shiro?”

“Yes.” Lance said, short and clinical.

“What did they say?”

“They didn’t say anything,” Lance shrugged. “They didn’t have to.”

“What do you mean?” Allura stepped into the room, Lance twisted away from her as she tried to move round to see his face. “Lance you’re not making any sense.”

“They’re in love!” Lance whirled round, suit tearing in his hands as long blue talons ripped from his fingers without his say so. He retracted them with a shaky inhale. Shapeshifting came with its ups and its downs. Sometimes it felt like the body Lance was born with wasn’t equipped to cope with strong emotions. “They’re in love, and they’re happy and they’re engaged. Keith’s own mother came to tell me to back off! I can’t get in the way of that! Don’t you understand? All I ever do is get in the way. They can’t want me because they’re perfect for each other, and I’d just…” Pieces of blue fabric spilled from his hands and fluttered to the floor. “I’d ruin everything.”

Allura took another step closer. “So, you’re telling me, the two people you want to date, who you were going to approach to talk about polyamory, are dating each other, and this suddenly a huge turn off? Isn’t this a good thing?”

“You didn’t see them Allura. They don’t need me.” Lance tore his hand through his hair and gazed up at the ceiling, wishing that he could see the constellations of home above him to give him guidance.

“You’re just going to leave rather than talk it out? Why is your first solution always to run?” Allura asked. Her voice was polite while her words were razor sharp.

Lance knew that he was a coward. He didn’t need his big sister reminding him of that.

“Keith and Shiro are in love,” Lance repeated, expecting that to fill in the blanks for Allura but she still looked at him scathingly. “What do you expect me to do?”

“Be brave,” stated Allura. “Be the Prince that I know you can be and go out there and tell them how you feel.  I love you Lance, but you’ve always had a bad habit of seeing what you expect to see.”

“Entertaining the ludicrous notion that they may want me, it’s not because they love me. They might want me now when I’m an idea, a disaster they have to cook for and heal, but how long until that gets annoying? How long until my jokes aren’t funny and my stunning good looks aren’t enough to keep them around?” The talons flickered around his fingertips and he tossed them away with a snarl. “I will not be something on the side for them to experiment with.”

“Do you really think they’re so shallow?”

“No.”

“Then stop making stupid excuses, admit you’re terrified of heartbreak and rejection, and then go talk to them.”

Lance glanced at Allura. “You’re not letting me leave this planet until I talk this out with them, are you?”

“You’re not a prisoner,” Allura scowled. “I won’t force you to do anything. I just know that if you don’t go tell them the truth, then you will regret it for the rest of your life. Not because of anything I’ll do to you, but because you’d be running from love, and you’re not the kind of person who does that.”

“Stop being so wise, you sound like a Queen,” Lance smiled, the first hint of happiness Allura had seen from him since she came in and she chalked that up as a win. His fingers were no longer flashing blue. “Fine, I’ll go, bare my soul and get kicked off the planet. Are you happy? I’m going to cause a political incident.”

“You’ve always wanted to do that,” Allura hugged Lance tightly, whispered good luck in his ear, and then he was gone.

“You know,” said Hunk from the doorway, “I hope you made the right decision.”

“I’m not sure I did,” Allura stared at Lance’s half packed suitcases. “But, so do I.”

* * *

 

Dusk on Daibazaal was one of the wonders of the universe. As the sun set and the stars flickered into being they burned the purple sky away with molten gold. In their legends, these were the eyes of their many gods, letting them know that they watched on. A gentle breeze, as soft as a lover’s sigh as it wove through the courtyard, carried the scent of citrus in from the orchard. Lance sat on a stone bench, his tailbone aching with how long he had been sitting so still, in the light of the metal lanterns and nursed his broken heart. Allura had told him not to run, so he sat still, and waited for Keith and Shiro to come to him. He hoped that the Galra were right, and that their gods were watching, and that they would be kind to him while his own stars were too far to save him from his folly.

He had given himself until dark to wait for them, and if they did not show, then he would take that as his answer and lie through his teeth to Allura until the day he died. Shouldn’t be any harder than this was going to be.

“You’re a difficult to person to track down,” Keith dropped down beside Lance without ceremony, one arm slung casually over the back of the bench behind him. Shiro sat cross legged on the other side of Lance, his hands folded in his lap and his eyes downcast. Lance supposed it wasn’t an easy thing to watch. It must hurt to see your fiancé casually throw his affection at someone you knew was there to try marry him. Stars, Lance must have been putting him through torture. His chest clenched with guilt. He had been so terrible.

“Sometimes you’ve got to get away from the crowds of admirers,” Lance shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “You know how it is, Your Highness.”

Keith waved him off with a toothy grin. Stars how was he so beautiful? The pressure clenching around Lance’s heart twisted. “I thought we were done with all those formalities?”

Lance had a quip on his tongue he was sure, but when he went to speak it was gone. There was nothing on his tongue but the citrus in the air and the taste of his own regret. “I can’t do this.”

The courtyard was closing in around him. There was no escape. Allura was wrong about him, he was a stars-cursed coward and he couldn’t sit hear and let them drag his heart over the coals.

Shiro’s hand on his snapped him out of his downward spiral. His voice was as sure a guide as any lantern in the darkness. “Lance, what’s wrong?”

“I just wanted to pretend,” Lance choked out. He stared forward, resolutely not looking at either of them. He tried so fucking hard to find something to say that would make sense of all this without admitting he was a fool in love, but found nothing.

“Pretend what?” Keith’s voice was full to burst with confusion. He drew his arm back and folded it over his chest as he leaned away from Lance. “Why would you…”

“Because I’m an idiot OK!?” Lance cut him off. He didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to listen to accusations or interrogations or any of it. He wanted to go home. He wanted to never leave the Palace again. He wanted to shut his heart up tight and marry for a strong alliance and forget all about Daibazaal and Earth and how light his heart had felt these past few days. “I wanted to pretend that this time was different, that this was going to work out, that for once in my life someone wanted _me_. I wanted so much that I thought my heart was going to shatter under the pressure of wanting. And somehow in all the messy confusion, I convinced myself that I could make this work. That I could have you both, somehow. But I never even stood a chance, did I?” Lance’s voice hitched, stuttered, and failed.

He’d spoken too fast for Keith and Shiro to follow, but the emotion came across. So much pain that each word had felt like a blow. Some of the meaning was lost, but it was clear that Lance was hurting. And when he hurt, they healed.

“You…” Shiro paused, gathered his wits about him, and tried again. “You want a chance with both of us?”

“I’m an idiot,” Lance whispered by way of answer. He still didn’t look at either of them. His eyes were red-rimmed, tears were falling steadily down his face now. “A stars-cursed idiot.”

“No,” Keith shushed him, his arm reaching out again and wrapping round his shoulders. “You’re not.”

“I’m so sorry.” Lance tasted blood in his mouth where sharp canines (suspiciously Galran feeling) had manifested and broken skin. “I’ll be gone in the morning I’ll leave you be I just, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m in love with you,” Keith blurted out. Well, there was no taking that back. It hung in the air between them. Lance looked at him for a moment and then turned to Shiro, a fear on his face that would’ve been comical in any other situation. “I love you, and I’m asking you to please stay.”

Lance still stared at Shiro like he was waiting for an axe to fall.

“I think you’re one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met,” said Shiro, the only one of the three who was managing to keep his voice steady. Though Keith noticed how his hand trembled where it rested against Lance’s own. “Please stay with us.”

“I don’t understand,” Lance whispered.

“I was trying to find you earlier –“ Keith started.

“We both were,” interrupted Shiro.         

“Right, yes, we both were trying to find you earlier, to tell you that we’re engaged and, oh, oh no please don’t cry more, oh by Kazador I’m terrible at this.” Keith rummaged through his armour looking for something he could offer Lance to dry his tears. When he found nothing he took the end of his cloak in his hands and he tore off a square. He dabbed at Lance’s cheeks gently. Lance laughed softly at him, though his breath hitched terribly.

“I’m no better at this,” Shiro complained. Keith shot him a look at he groaned. “Lance, we want to officially court you, and in the spirit of this whole event we want to propose to you too. We want you, we want your smile and your kindness and your creativity and your wit and your passion and everything else that you are, to be with us.”

“This week, I can choose anyone I want to be with me,” said Keith, “and I choose you both. I choose Shiro for all that I love about him, and I choose you for all that I love about you.”

“He looked for you earlier, to tell you this” said Shiro. “He saw you talking to Allura and thought that you wanted go back to Altea. He came to find me, and we talked it out, decided that we wanted you anyway we could have you, long distance, no distance, anything would be better than losing you. You’ve carved yourself a space in our hearts and we can’t be without you.”

“Exactly! But, you’re still crying, oh gods. Lance please, please tell me how to help you I hate this.”

“Your mum told me I’d be a terrible Emperor,” Lance didn’t know why that was what he stuck on, but everything else was still being processed and this had yet to be addressed.

“But she loves you?” Was Keith’s response. Which really didn’t help Lance, it just added more confusion to the mix and he was tired and wasn’t sure if he should be heart broken or elated. He was leaning towards the latter, but today had been such a wormhole journey between emotions he was hesitant to pick a side. “She’s been dropping hints to me since before you arrived that she wants me to pick you.”

“You didn’t tell me about that,” said Shiro petulantly.

“Is now the time?” Keith jerked his head in Lance’s direction. “She loves you too and you know it.”

“She said you needed someone who understood you, someone who put duty first,” said Lance. “I thought she meant Shiro?”

Keith laughed. “She was talking about you, you absolutely impossible Prince. Are you entirely incapable of taking a compliment?”

“Only when they seem impossible.”

Lance thought over the day. He thought of their intimacy, of his hope, of his despair, of how if he was hearing them right (and how could he have misheard ‘I’m in love with you’ and ‘we want to propose to you’?) and concluded that he had to be dreaming. He had to have fallen asleep on the bench outside and he was alone, dreaming and probably drooling and…that hand on his was too real for him to conjure, and Keith was still dabbing at his cheeks even though he’d stopped crying and this was all far more than even his overactive imagination could conjure.

“I’m in love with both of you,” Lance said finally, words tripping over themselves in the rush to get out. “I thought that I could only have one of you, if I could have either and I couldn’t see how I was going to do anything without causing somebody pain. I’m in love with you, I love you so much, oh stars it feels so good to say it. I love you, I love you, I…”

Could you blame Keith for kissing him? Honestly it was a miracle it had taken so long. Keith was partial to reckless behaviour and following his heart and he felt like he’d wanted this for years. It was short, a sweet press of lips that still left Lance ecstatic and dizzy. 

As soon as Keith had moved away, there was Shiro, a steady hand on Lance’s cheek and strong lips against his own and Lance was drowning in how much he loved these men.

Each kiss was a promise, it was a proposal, it was perfection.

“Don’t go,” Keith whispered as he tucked himself closer to Lance's side.

“Please,” added Shiro when the broke apart, his forehead staying against Lance's and the line of his chest pressed against Lance.

Lance stared at them, these two men who had stolen his heart and given him theirs in return. How could he refuse them when they looked at him like that? He smiled, warm and true and better than cake and gardening and dances and every star in the sky. “My loves, you’re never getting rid of me now.”

* * *

 

Lance loved Altea.

He also loved Daibazaal. Lance loved flying and seeing new worlds, and he loved the smell of home, the wide-open fields and the blue sky that shone with countless stars even in the middle of the longest days. He loved meeting new people, and practising languages that he’d spent hours studying by the gentle whirring lights of the Castle, but sometimes the expectations put on what their relationship would be had driven him to despair. Other times, as it turned out, expectations aligned perfectly with reality.

Lance could love the festivals of home, but he could also revel in the warmth of two bodies blanketing him with loving arms and soft breaths. He could love the stars, but he could also love playful sparring and figuring out how to make a waltz work with three people. He could love his home, but he had a second home here, with Keith and Shiro, and with Thisbe, Thace, Pidge, Ulaz; everyone he had met who looked to him as an Emperor Consort and trusted him to do right by them. He loved and missed his home, but there was nothing there for him that quite compared to the weight of an obsidian ring on his finger, or warm kisses in hallways, or the plans for a future that was brighter than anything he’d dreamed.

So, when one year to the day since their first dances, Empress Thisbe of Daibazal and the Galran Empire, Sergeant Major of the Seven Armies, The Everlasting, Champion of the Blade and the Protector of the Hiareth Galaxy; Keith’s mother, he and Shiro’s mother-in-law, pronounced Lance, Shiro and Keith husbands in the eyes of the nine gods, Lance was ecstatic.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the longest fic I've ever written and it feels like my child. 
> 
> You can find me over on [tumblr](http://dreamsofbooksandmonsters.tumblr.com/)


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